


Stories of Us

by Ameiko



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, F/M, Physical Disability, Racism, Romance, World War I
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-08-14
Updated: 2015-03-08
Packaged: 2017-11-12 03:24:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 27
Words: 103,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/486124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ameiko/pseuds/Ameiko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. Katniss never imagined that The Great War would change her life in the secluded PA woods, but it did. She also never imagine that crippled soldier Peter "Peeta" Mellark could heal her heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Just in case anyone is wondering, this is a repost of a story that is already published on FF.net. No major changes have been made to earlier chapters, but there will be more explicit versions of later chapters posted here.

 

 

 

“Katniss? Katniss, are you out here?”

I could hear her calling me, but I found myself unable to move from my little hiding spot. I just wasn't ready to face her yet. Ever since Rory stopped by this morning, I had been wandering the forest near our home. I could picture his brother appearing from behind one of the trees, teasing me about something or other with that look in his eyes. I could picture us sneaking kisses hidden by the foliage from prying eyes. But I knew that wouldn't happen. Gale was dead.

“Katniss, please come back home!” Primrose called again.

This time, I emerged from the old hollow tree and faced my sister. My tears had mostly dried, leaving a salty film on my cheeks. “I would have been back soon,” I half lied. Truth was I would have come back. It was the “soon” part I wasn't so sure of. I wasn't like our mother. I was damn sure not going to shut down and waste away. No matter how much I hurt, I knew Prim needed me.

Prim nodded and pulled her ragged shawl tighter around her shoulders. “I made some cornbread, but I don't suppose you feel much like eating.”

“I'll eat,” I told her mechanically. _Not like Mama_ , I reminded myself silently.

“I know it hurts, but it'll get better,” she told me softly. Prim wrapped her arms around me and hugged me tight. She was still young enough to believe that broken hearts mended. She didn't realize that you just got better at hiding the pain.

We began to walk toward our little cottage – though I suppose ‘shack’ was the better term – with Prim's arm around my waist. She chattered on a bit about trivial things. Trying to keep my mind from drifting to the inevitable, but nothing she ~~can say~~ said took my mind off ~~of~~ the fact that Gale was lying dead on some God forsaken French battlefield. Though no one told me how he died, my mind kept seeing him lying with his eyes wide open and a bullet hole in his chest. The macabre image didn't fade after we made it home, either. The cornbread Primrose placed in front of me almost made me throw up, but I was true to my word and ate with Gale's face never leaving me.

“Doc Haymitch stopped by. There were a couple of things he said he needs to talk to you about. He said it can wait till tomorrow but no later,” Prim told me as she washed up the dinner things.

“Okay,” I agreed flatly.

Prim kissed my forehead. “Go get some sleep. I can take care of things for a bit.”

Usually, I was the one to comfort and care for Prim. Our father died when I was just fifteen and Prim was twelve. There was an accident in the coal mines that took the lives of Papa and all the other men that were down there with him. In truth, we lost both of our parents that day. Mama had always been fragile in her way, and she just plain went to pieces. Not a full year passed before she drank an entire bottle of laudanum and joined him in the grave. It was my job to look after Prim no matter what. I put my skills as a hunter to use to keep food on the table and did a little gardening, but it wasn't enough. Soon it became apparent that I needed real work. Problem was there wasn't much work to be had for a girl my age, unless it was on her back for the unmarried miners. Thankfully, my prayers were answered when Doc Haymitch came to town three years back. He hired me on to help tend the sick and injured. The pay was just a little cash and a share of whatever he was paid in trade, but it was enough to keep us going.

That night was filled with nightmares of blood and dismemberment. I kept seeing him die again and again. Nothing I did could block out his imaginary screams. God, how I hoped it had been quick for him. I prayed that he had died with a clean shot, but I would never know ~~that~~. All I could do was try to tell myself that the dreams were nothing more than my imagining the worst. Before dawn, I gave up the fight and dressed.

For years, Mama had scolded me for wearing boys' clothes. Papa had started it all by teaching me how to hunt when I was no more than six. He had told me that it was foolish to try and move in the woods in skirts. The freedom that trousers afforded me was addictive, and before long, the only time I wore a dress at all was on our few trips to town. At home, I dressed and acted more like a boy than a girl. I refused to try and be someone else.

I grabbed my gun on the way out the door. It had been Papa's gun, and though old, I kept it in good working order. There wasn't any money to buy a better one now. Besides, the piece was as much a part of me as my very own heart. I could shoot the eye out of a squirrel, or so people said. All I know is that I almost never came back empty handed.

The forest that day was exceptionally quiet. Even the call of the birds above seemed more distant. I walked my usual paths slower than normal, taking in the sun that shown through the leaves and the soft rustling wind. Gale had once told me that he felt more of God here than he ever did in Sunday service. Not that I attended church much, but I agreed. The still grace that abounded in the woods had a way of freeing up bits of my soul that otherwise seemed too dark and knarled. Without much thought, I seated myself on a large stone and pulled an apple from my pack. I bit into the sweet crisp fruit and wondered if Gale's soul would return here to rest, or if he would wander the world looking for the adventure he had always craved.

Gale wanted more than the life of a coal miner. I could still remember the day he'd told me he was joining the army. There had been a spark in him that day that I had never seen before. It was almost as if he relished the thought of rushing into the heat of battle. He had dreams of seeing the world as an officer—of returning home as a hero. Gale was brave and resourceful. Surely he could make a name for himself in the military. And just perhaps, he could make a life for me at his side. Gale never asked me to marry him, but he swore that when he came home, he would put a ring on my finger. Funny thing was, even being the pragmatist that I am and knowing that soldiers often died in battle, I never imagined that he wouldn't come back.

A subtle crack broke my thoughts, and I was once again alert. My eyes scanned the tree line for whatever creature was moving ahead of me. With my rifle gripped in my hands and my eye trained down the barrel, I watched as slender doe appeared ahead of me. Her graceful strides carried her down along the edge of a dense corpse of trees and right into my sights. I took a deep breath and concentrated on just the right spot. Just as my finger brushed the trigger, she looked right at me. Though it was too far for me to actually look into her eyes, I met her gaze as best I could. Suddenly it struck me: I wondered if the man who killed Gale had looked into his eyes. I wondered if so, how he had been able to pull the trigger and snuff out the light from those eyes I knew so well. I lowered the gun and doubled over, vomiting up bits of apple and bile.

I returned home to find Prim slathering some of her prized jam on a bit leftover of cornbread. She gave me a soft smile and offered me the bread. Still feeling sick, I just shook my head and reached for the coffee pot. The strong, hot liquid helped wash away some of the film from my mouth and helped settle my stomach a bit.

“No luck in the woods?” Prim asked.

I shook my head. “No, but I heard Mrs. Callahan tell Doc that she would give him a couple of hens as payment for taking such good care of her son.”

“Oh,” Prim sighed wistfully, “A laying hen would be real nice. Just think of all the eggs!”

I shrugged. I had been looking forward to fried chicken, but if Prim wanted eggs... My sister had a way with animals. We had an older than dirt nag, a damn near useless goat, and a meaner than hell she-cat. Two out of the three only lived by my sister's grace. The nag, I reasoned, was at least useful.

“I should get dressed and head on into town. I'm sure there's plenty to be done,” I said as I drained the last of my coffee.

Prim frowned. “I don't think Doc would expect you to get back to work so soon after...well, after the news.”

“Well, I expect me to,” I countered.

I changed into a faded blue dress. It had come out of my mother's chest and was so worn in spots that you could read through it, but it was still usable for now. I pulled my dark hair back into a no-nonsense braid, and stared at my reflection. Vanity was never my greatest sin. I knew that some men found me attractive, but all I saw was just plain old me...nothing special. I briefly wondered what Gale had seen in me. Swallowing hard, I shoved my old straw bonnet onto my head and tied the frayed ribbons.

By the time I came outside, Prim had already hitched up the horse to our rickety old cart. Much as I hated the cart, Papa had never gotten the gelding saddle broke. I hauled myself up without too much leg showing and took the reins that Prim offered. “Want to ride in along?” I asked.

She shook her head. “I have a pile of mending that I took in from the laundress and she expects it all done by tomorrow morning,” she explained, making a face. Prim was quick with a needle, but that didn't mean she liked it much. In fact, I had a feeling that given the chance, she would love to learn more healing skills from Doc. Our mother had been an apothecary's daughter and taught us both quite a bit. Prim excelled while I had struggled with the basics. If not for her age when Doc had first come around, I didn't doubt that she'd have been his first choice of assistant.

Town wasn't much of anything really. There was a mercantile and all of the usual stops (post office, church, tavern and the like), but it wasn't much that would make anyone really want to live here ~~really~~. I found most of the town folk to be difficult, but I wasn't really the best judge of that. Doc Haymitch always told me that I had the same soft feminine disposition as a grizzly bear with a thorn in its paw. When Papa was still alive, he had been friends with just about every citizen in the damn little map dot. But after he died, not a soul seemed to care that we almost starved that winter. I guess it kind of soured me on most of them.

Doc Haymitch owned a house just on the edge of town. He had bought both the house and the small office that was attached to it when the last doctor decided to move back to Philadelphia. It was a large drafty old thing with lots of intricate scrolling along the wrap around porch. The shutters and door were a bright cheery, freshly painted by one of the locals who was too poor to pay for the care of his pregnant wife. I always thought it a bit odd that one lonely old drunk had perhaps the nicest house around—with only the exception of the Mellark's summer “cottage.”

I parked the cart out back and unhitched the gelding. Prim had been right when she said that Doc probably would have given me the day off, but I was determined not to waste a ride out here just to see whatever bit of news Haymitch had deemed important. If there were no patients to be tended to, I knew that I could always busy myself cleaning up around the place.

One of the downsides of working with Doc was that I never knew what sort of state I was likely to find him in. Some days he was a sober as a preacher on Sunday and other days he was so drunk that I did more tending to him than anything else. I had even had to strip him out piss and vomit stained trousers a time or two. Most days though, he was a functional drunk. On that day, I found Haymitch seated in his office writing furiously. When he looked up at me, his eyes were clear and alert.

“I wasn't sure you'd come today,” he told me without preamble. He set aside his pen and motioned for me to have a seat in the chair across from him.

I shrugged. “You told Prim you needed to speak with me no later than today.”

Haymitch nodded. “Either way, it's good that you’re here. I have a job offer for you.”

“Job offer?” Even though I knew Haymitch well enough to know better, my mind flashed back to when the owner of the town's lone bar offered me a job as one of his upstairs girls. To say I was hesitant was an understatement.

“Mrs. Mellark stopped by. Her youngest damn near got himself blown to bits in France. It left him crippled and mostly blind. I guess he wants to live at their house outside of town rather than Philly. She's lookin' for somebody to be a nurse and companion for the boy,” Haymitch explained evenly.

I bit my lip thoughtfully. “She didn't hire some fancy nurse from the city?”

Haymitch chuckled. “She did, but I guess the boy has quite a temper and sent her packing. Left poor Mrs. Mellark in a bind. Don't suppose she wants to stick around and be motherly for very long.”

“I don't know if I am really a good choice for something like that,” I said honestly. Though I knew how to tend a wound well enough and how to cool a fever, I wasn't a born healer. What did I know about caring for someone with that kind of disability?

“He ain't sick and his injuries are as healed up as they'll ever be. You'll be pushing him around in his wheelchair, reading to him, and seeing to his private needs. I think you are qualified to empty a damn bedpan, Katniss,” he assured me sarcastically.

“How much is she offering?”

“Eighty a week, plus room and board.”

My mind spun. Eighty dollars a week? Hell, I doubted that even Doc Haymitch made that kind of dough. I could do a hell of a lot with that money. In my mind's eye, I could see the dress that Prim had been eying up in the store window when she thought I wasn't looking. “Do you think she'd pay me more on account of not needing the room and board?” I asked still in awe.

Haymitch sighed. “Well, you see, that is the non-negotiable part of this. She wants someone there all hours of the day. I already asked her about that. I know you won't leave Primrose behind without good reason.”

“I won't leave Prim behind at all!” I barked. “You know I can't leave her.”

“Calm down,” he said, holding up a hand. “I thought about that, too. Mrs. Callahan is thinking of taking on a boarder. Being that her husband moved on and little John isn't too hale, she needs the money. Girl's almost seventeen and doesn't exactly need to be tied to her apron strings either.”

Everything that Doc told me was true. I knew that Prim could do well enough boarding with Mrs. Callahan. The widow was a good person. Poor, like most folks around here, but she was much kinder to us than many others were. She had even given Prim some of her daughter's clothes when they were too small for the older girl. I wished I could have said something bad about her. Something that would have discounted the idea, but I couldn't. With Gale's death still fresh in my mind, I just didn't want to be away from Prim, too. I wanted to hold my sister close enough that nothing bad could ever happen to her.

Haymitch leaned back in his chair. I suppose he knew me well enough to see my fears written plain as day on my face. “Think on it a night or so. I told Mrs. Mellark I would need a day to convince you, but that you were worth waiting on. I told her that I doubted the devil himself could run you off.”

The rest of day went by painfully slow. I spent the better part of the morning putting away a shipment of medical supplies that had come in the day before. After that, I boiled the sheets that young John Callahan had been sleeping on the previous nights and scorched the bed pans. My body was occupied by the tasks, but my mind was elsewhere.

I didn't know too terribly much about the Mellarks. They owned the coal mine and some other factories both in Philadelphia and Pittsburgh, but despite owning a home nearby, they were seldom seen near town. They were cut of a much finer cloth than the folks here. Every July, there would be a bit of hubbub when the Mellarks opened up their cottage. Folks were always twittering on about how fancy the cars that drove through town were, or how finely dressed the Mellarks were. But as far as I knew, not one of the locals had much association with them. I had met one of the Mellark boys, but it was frankly a time I didn't care much to think about.

It was right after Mama had killed herself. Prim and I had been surviving well enough on what I was able to forage, but there was no money to speak of. One of the neighbor boys came down with the chicken pox and Prim soon followed. Remembering what Mama had taught me, I was able to get her through the first few days, but then her fever set in. God, how quickly she got sick. I rushed into town with what little I had to my name – a few pennies and a costume broach of my Mama's, but the old druggist wouldn't sell ~~give~~ me anything to bring down her fever. I pleaded and begged, promising to do anything at all to work off the balance, but he wouldn't budge. The Mellarks owned the store and they weren't known for Christian charity. Now, I understand that he would probably have been fired for helping me, but at the time, that didn't matter.

But that was when I met him. I was just about to walk out of the store when I saw a boy no older than myself staring at me. He was just an average boy to look at, but he was dressed in clothes that probably cost more than every single thing I owned. The only physical detail I remembered about him was that he had eyes so impossibly blue, you'd think you could swim in them. With no more than a gesture to the druggist, he saw to it that I got that medicine. I owed him a debt, and that didn't sit well with my pride. I wondered if it was the same young man who was now horribly maimed. I hoped not, but either way, there was a lot to consider.

Back at home that night, I found myself curled into our threadbare old couch with my feet tucked beneath me. I watched as Prim sat in Mama's rocking chair still sewing, just as she had predicted earlier. For about the twentieth time that day, I wondered if it was fair to Prim not to take the job. That money would mean that Prim wouldn't have to sew till her fingers bled anymore. She could wear nice dresses and eat a full belly's worth at every meal. Prim could become lady enough to step out of the black shadow that the Everdeen name had cast over us both. I remembered last year's social dance. Prim had scrimped and saved enough to buy some lace for her best dress, but no boy had asked her to go, even though she was by far the prettiest girl around. I could still remember how hurt she'd looked as she'd tucked the dress away. She'd smiled at me and said “It's just nice to dream a bit.” But just the same, it had made my heart ache. Eighty dollars a week could change a lot. I had no choice but to do it for Prim.

“Prim,” I began hesitantly.

She looked up at me over her stilled needle and frowned. “Yes?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Re-edited and brought to you with the immense help of Chelzie.

Two days after Doc Haymitch told me about the job, he and I were invited to meet with Mrs. Mellark at her home. We would have gone the day before, but Doc managed to talk me into letting him loan me enough money for some new clothes. The Mellarks, he reminded me, wouldn't look too kindly on an employee of theirs looking like she had been dressed out of the rag bin. I swallowed my pride and let him talk me into buying the dark green day dress I was wearing, along withtwo other dresses and a few unmentionables. If I hadn't been certain Mrs. Mellark would have sent me on my way, I would have argued more, but I knew that this job could mean a lot to Prim and I.

The Mellark’s home was about five or so miles outside of town. As we pulled up to the monstrous looking house in Doc's automobile, I suddenly felt more nervous than I think I have in my whole life. The place was immense. I bet you could have fit our shack, Doc's house, and maybe even the church inside of it. The exterior was done in stone and white painted wood with a porch that went the whole way around it. I could see a couple smaller buildings peeking out from behind, and even those were bigger than anything I had ever seen before. Doc motioned me toward the massive stone stairs leading up to the doorway, and I gathered my courage.

We were met at the door by a young, petite black girl in a maid's uniform. She didn't look much older than Prim. Her large, golden brown eyes met mine and I knew instantly that I would come to like this girl. Despite her drab clothes and reserved manners, I could see a bit of spark in her as she directed us to the office.

Doc Haymitch touched my arm just before we entered. "You'll do fine."

I nodded and followed him in. The office was just as big as you would expect, but twice as nice. From the fine oriental carpet beneath my feet to the high copper covered ceiling, everything was lush and expensive. In fact, it was so beautiful that I almost didn't notice the woman standing behind the desk.

Mrs. Mellark was an imposing woman in a slender package. Thin almost to the point of looking starved, you could see that every line in her face and form was elegantly etched almost as if it were carved. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a severe bun and her brown eyes did nothing to soften the effect. She gestured toward the chairs facing the desk, but said not one word of greeting.

"So," she began in an icy tone, "You are Miss Everdeen."

"Yes, Ma'am," I agreed, trying to keep my eyes forced downward. Wasn't that how a servant was supposed to act? I sure as hell knew that Mrs. Mellark didn't see me an equal.

Mrs. Mellark let out a non-committal "hmm" and took her seat. "How long did you say she had been in your employ, Dr. Abernathy?"

"A little under three years," Doc answered. He gave me a quick encouraging glance and then looked away. "She's been a wonderful addition to my practice."

"I'm sure," she replied vaguely. "And you have no marital prospects? It won't do to hire you and then find out you've been fraternizing."

A quick shard of pain struck my heart, but I ignored it. "No, Ma'am."

Mrs. Mellark waved an elegant hand. "Fine then. Have Rue show you upstairs and introduce yourself to my son. I believe his brother is sitting with him for a while. Our driver will pick you up Monday morning in front of the post office."

Though her commanding ways grated on my nerves, I lowered my head and did as I was told.

As soon as I turned the doorknob, I heard a scuffling on the other side. The serving girl, Rue, was standing just outside the door pretending to polish the wooden banister. She ducked her head as soon I as I stepped out. She smiled sheepishly and set aside the rag. "Follow me, please, Miss," she said softly.

Rue led me to a room at the end of the hall where male voices could be heard from inside. I listened for a moment, trying to determine which voice belonged to my charge.

"You can't expect us to just let you rot here, Peeta," the first man said angrily.

"I can and I do," the second countered. "You have a life out there and what do I have? A new nurse to wipe my ass! I bet she is every bit as old and ignorant as the last one. Maybe this one will at least bring me a damn gun when I ask her to."

I stiffened at the words, but just a bit. At the time, I couldn't say that I wouldn't have felt about the same in his place. Before his brother could answer, I straightened up and knocked at the door.

"Come in, Rue," I heard one of them call.

As I entered, I was keenly aware of both men in front of me. The first man I saw was so very tall that I almost had to strain my neck to look at him. I don't think there ever was a better image of a modern white knight, either. With thick blond hair parted in the middle and chiseled masculine features, I didn't have to wonder if he was popular with the ladies. His dark brown eyes met mine, and he smiled. "Miss Everdeen, I presume," he said politely as he reached out his hand.

"Pleased to meet you, sir," I murmured as I took his hand. For an instant, I was embarrassed that my hand was so calloused beneath his soft fingers.

"Likewise. I am Matthew Mellark." He made a gesture toward the room's other occupant. "My brother, Peter."

Peter Mellark was seated in a wheelchair with a high wicker back facing the window. From my vantage point, all I could see was the top of a blond head and a clenched fist on the armrest. I took a bold step forward and swallowed. "I'm very happy to be working with you, Mr. Mellark."

His only reply was a snort of disgust. The other Mr. Mellark rolled his eyes.

"I apologize for my younger brother's lack of manners. I assure you that he will be much improved at your return," Matthew told me through clenched teeth.

Afraid to say the wrong thing, I only nodded, "I will see you Monday then."

I stepped back out into the hall and leaned against the door. I wondered if I was really going to be okay here. The Mellarks world might as well have been another planet from mine, and I doubted my charge would be much help with the transition. To be honest, I wasn't sure what I had expected; perhaps a more sterile, hospital-like environment. Certainly not a world of animosity thinly veiled in luxury. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I could manage this. If I could make ends meet for me and Prim all those years with next to nothing, surely I could learn to manage one foul tempered veteran and his witch of a mother.

Doc was still in the office when I came back down. The look on his face was pleasant enough, but I could recognize the edge of discomfort in his eyes. He stood and pasted on a smile. "If there's nothing else you need from Miss Everdeen, I think it's time we headed back to town," he said with his hat in his hands.

"Nothing more. She is free to go with you," Mrs. Mellark offered imperiously with a light wave of her hand. Her gaze turned toward me. "See that you are at the post office no later than half past eight with whatever you may wish to bring with you. I shan't have Thresh making trips to town just for you, do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Ma'am," I replied mechanically. It seemed that it was all I could say. However, I did have one more thing I wanted to know. "I was wondering though, Mrs. Mellark, how often I might be allowed to go home to visit my sister?"

Mrs. Mellark's face contorted as though I had shoved a pile of manure beneath her nose. "I thought I had made it clear that this was a residential position?" she retorted. "But I suppose if you must abandon your duties, I can see to it to give you one Sunday a month to go back. I suggest that you not abuse my good will, Miss Everdeen."

Not trusting my voice to remain emotionless anymore, I nodded graciously.

Doc Haymitch and I didn't speak until the Mellark home was far behind us. "That went better than I thought it would," he commented as he gave me a side long glance.

My mouth nearly fell open. "Better than you thought?"

"I was prepared for you to say something stupid," he admitted with a chuckle.

"Glad one of us finds this amusing," I muttered. Somehow, I didn't share his mirth. My life was about to be turned inside out, but that didn't seem to register with Haymitch.

"Well, you'll be happy to know that Mrs. Mellark is planning on leaving tomorrow morning. It'll be just her eldest son and your patient to contend with."

I breathed a sigh of relief. One sour puss was easier to deal with than two, I supposed. There was something about Mrs. Mellark that just plain got under my skin. I hated the way she looked down her long, snide nose at me. Hell, she even looked at Doc like he was something she had stepped in. I was sure that I could deal with Peter Mellark, though. He could be as bitter and stubborn as he damn well wanted. I had a reason to put up with him. A damn good one.

As we came to a stop in Doc's driveway, Haymitch gave me a thoughtful glance. "Sweetheart, I know I haven't exactly asked you much about it, but you'd let me know if you weren't ready for this, right?"

I looked away. "Why wouldn't I be ready?"

"I know what losing Gale means for you," he said softly. "Believe me, I know how bad it hurts."

Biting my lip, I tried hard to will away the surge of longing building in my gut. I had done well today. It had been almost a full day that I hadn't pictured Gale's face. The meeting with the Mellarks had managed to distract me a bit. Maybe that had even made dealing with Mrs. Mellark worth it. I took a deep breath. "I'll manage. I always do."

Doc gave me a sad smile. "In our way, I guess we all do."

I didn't know the particulars, but I knew that Doc's whole family had been killed in the Chicago fire when he was little more than a boy. Not a full ten years later, his wife had died in childbirth not long before he had come here. I supposed that was what finally drove him to the bottle, but aside from a few drunken comments, he didn't exactly confide in me. Doc and I both kept things a bit closer to the chest than most folks. Maybe that's why we could get along so well. I didn't try to solve his problems, and he did likewise. Though that didn't mean that we didn't care, we just didn't show it. In fact, I think that afternoon may have been the first time he showed an overt interest in my life outside of the practice.

Those last two days at home were bittersweet. Prim and I packed up everything that meant something to us in our old heavy trunks with very little conversation about what was to come. Even though it was a dump, it was home. There were many happy memories there from before Papa died. I guess we both felt a touch sad about it despite the promise of a better life for the both of us.

Prim's hands hovered over the silver picture frame that held the only photograph of us all together before lovingly packing it away. I had told her to take it with her to the Callahan's. Over the years, I had memorized every line and angle of the image until it was burned in the back of my brain. I could see Mama's bright smile and Papa's handsome face. Prim was only two at the time and was in a frilly dress sitting on Mama's lap. I, at six, stood by Papa's shoulder with my head only a little higher. I wondered what they would think of me now, of the choices I was making. Would they be proud?

"You know, I think there are times when I would trade the whole rest of my life for one more day with us all together," Prim admitted.

"The whole rest of your life is a long time," I chided softly. I didn't want to tell her that sometimes I felt the same way.

Prim frowned. "Is it, though? How do any of us know what's next? Papa was here and healthy one moment and then gone the next. I don't think he thought his life would be cut so short, but it was. Maybe it's better to have a short time of wonderful than a long life of nothing special."

I thought of Gale and instantly knew that I would bring him back if I could have, no matter the cost. Better to be here and alive than gone on to whatever lay ahead. Even then, I knew I was being selfish. I folded up a pair of my trousers and tossed them in my trunk. "I bet with all of the money I can save up, ~~that~~ we can fix the place up a bit," I said, avoiding the topic.

Prim's eyes brightened at the possibility. "I bet we can. Maybe I can start on some curtains and the like while you're away. I don't think Doc will be needing too much work from me right now."

"Doc?" I asked in surprise. "What's that about?"

"I asked Doc if he would consider taking me on in your place. I'd like to learn a bit more about medicine," she told me with a hopeful smile. "I can't just sit around all day, and it would be real nice to have my own money."

"Oh. Well, I suppose that isn't such a bad idea," I conceded. I feigned a yawn. "I think it's time for bed."

The morning we left, Prim shed a few tears as we loaded up the cart. I looked at her from the corner of my eye and tried to ignore the temptation to shed a few of my own. "It's not too late for me to change my mind," I told her softly.

"Don't worry about me," she said as she brushed away her tears. "I think this will be good for both of us."

Mrs. Callahan was waiting on her front porch for us. She was a gray haired woman even though she was not yet fifty. "C'mon in, child, and let's get you settled," she called out to Prim with a warm smile. "I baked an apple pie for us to have with some tea."

I helped Prim carry her trunk into a modest-sized bedroom on the first floor. Prim smiled as she fingered the lace trimmed pillows on the comfortable looking bed. The room was much nicer than any place we had ever stayed before, and I could tell that Prim was looking forward to staying there. I swallowed hard and resisted the urge to drag her back to our home.

"I'll be okay here, Katniss," she whispered as she touched my shoulder.

"I know you will," I replied uneasily.

Prim smiled encouragingly. "I know to mind my manners and stay out of trouble. I won't let anyone push me around either—not even Doc."

I nodded. "I should get going."

I hugged Prim tightly and headed for the door.

Doc had agreed to meet me at the post office and to take the horse and cart back to his place for a while. I saw him pacing a bit as I approached. He was dressed sloppily, as usual, but looked a tad more awake than he did most days at this hour. "Morning, sweetheart," he said as I pulled to a halt.

"Morning," I murmured as I hopped down from the rig.

Haymitch pulled my trunk out of the cart for me. "Ain't seen the driver yet," he commented lightly.

"I guess I'm not late then," I grumbled. "The witch doesn't have anything on me just yet."

Haymitch chuckled. "She's a bit...well..."

"Evil," I supplied.

"You eat anything?" he asked.

I shook my head and caught an apple that he tossed my way. I took a big bite. "Thanks."

"I think you'll do well out there," Haymitch told me. "That boy needs someone with a bit of fire to spare. God knows he ain't got any of his own."

"You know him?" I asked.

Haymitch shrugged. "Not really. I set his arm once right after I settled here. His father said he was on the losing side of a brawl with his middle brother. He fell trying to get away and landed on it. Even then, the boy didn't have much fight in him. Peter Mellark seemed like a good kid. The day you found out about Gale, his mother asked me to go out and give him a once over. She said she didn't have much faith in the Army doctors. I don't think the poor bastard's got much left."

A shiny red car pulled up before I could ask anything else. The driver was a good looking Negro man dressed in blue. When he stood up, I felt my mouth hang open. There was no doubt in my mind that he was the largest man I have ever seen. "Are you ready to go, Miss Everdeen?" he asked with his eyes averted.

I looked to Haymitch. "Please keep an eye on Prim for me."

He nodded and put a hand on my shoulder. "You keep your head down, girl."

The ride to the summer house was a silent one. It seemed the Mellark's driver wasn't much of a conversationalist. I leaned my head on the window and watched the trees pass by.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Re-edited and brought to you with the immense help of Chelzie.

Arriving at the Mellark house for the second time felt surreal. I spotted Matthew Mellark standing on the grand, wrap-around porch with a welcoming smile. He met me at the bottom of the stairs and offered his arm gallantly. "Good morning, Miss Everdeen. Welcome to your new home," he told me with a gesture toward the main house.

"Good morning," I returned, still in a daze. "Please, call me Katniss."

Mr. Mellark gave me a wide grin. "Well, then, Katniss and Matthew we shall be."

He led me into a formal dining room with an impressive dark cherry dining table. "I do hope that you'll indulge me. I haven't yet had my breakfast and was hoping you would join me.

"All right," I agreed. I watched as he pulled out a chair for me. In my whole life, no one had ever treated me like that—like I was a lady and not the tomboy daughter of a dirt-poor miner. I thought men only acted like gentlemen in the Jane Austen novels that Prim liked so much.

"Have you eaten?" he asked as he took his own seat and placed a starched white linen napkin in his lap.

"I had an apple." Even to my own ears, I sounded like a vague echo of myself. I knew I didn't belong in this world. I should have been roaming the woods in trousers, not seated at some fancy table wearing a frilly dress. I briefly imagined the look that would cross his refined features if he knew that the "lady" at his table regularly killed and skinned squirrels and all manner of other creatures.

"An apple isn't a proper breakfast," Matthew said with a frown. He raised his hand in a commanding gesture to Rue, who appeared as if she came from thin air. For the first time, I realized that he had more than a bit of his mother's haughty nature, even if it was a little easier to take.

I considered telling him I wasn't hungry, but then Rue returned with two plates piled high with fluffy eggs, crisp bacon, buttered toast, and fresh strawberries. Against my will, my stomach grumbled in anticipation. I couldn't remember the last time I had eaten bacon. My eyes nearly fluttered shut with anticipation, but I managed to restrain myself.

"Thank you," I told Rue as she filled a glass with orange juice.

She looked at me with her large golden eyes, startled—as though no one had ever thanked her before when she served them. "You're welcome, Miss," she said softly, giving me a fleeting smile before vanishing again.

Matthew also seemed taken aback by my gratitude. "That's her job, Katniss. Rue and the others know their place."

"Aren't I a servant, too?" I asked, anger seeping into my voice just a bit.

"Of course not, Katniss. You are to be a valued companion to Peeta. Well, his eyes and legs, so to speak. You are far more than a servant in this house and to this family," he said with conviction in his dark eyes.

I clenched my teeth and reached for my juice. If I wasn't so annoyed by his for his arrogance, I probably would have admired the novelty of the orange juice—a treat I had only had once many years ago. Instead, I barely tasted it as I took a sip. "Will your brother be joining us?"

"No," Matthew replied with a slight frown. "You'll find it is a chore to get him out of that damned room of his. We have another chair on the first floor for him and Thresh can easily carry him downstairs, if you can get him to agree to it."

I nodded.

Matthew forced a smile. "Please, let's not dwell on unpleasantness so early in the day. Eat. You'll need all the strength you can get."

I ate mostly because it would have been a sin to let such a meal go to waste. In our lean years, I would have sold my soul to have such a feast. When Papa was still alive, Mama had made us porridge for breakfast most days or a slice of toast. Eggs were usually saved for Sunday mornings when Papa was home. I couldn't fathom what it would have been like to casually eat a meal like this most every day.

When the meal was finished, Rue returned to clear the plates and I thanked her once again. To my surprise, Mathew began to laugh heartily. "I must say that I no longer have any doubts that you are the perfect woman for the job," he said as his humor subsided.

My cheeks burned with indignation. "Why is that?"

"Let me ask you something, Katniss. If your job didn't depend on us, would you be the least bit intimidated by my family?" he asked seriously.

"Not at all," I answered, staring him dead in the eye. If this got me fired, then so be it. I knew in my heart that I would never become some puppet for the rich. I would have rather walked out of that house with my head held high than let a bully dictate how I would live. A bully was a bully, no matter how finely dressed he was.

Matthew leaned back in his seat thoughtfully. "Thank God," he said finally. "I was hopeful, but frankly pessimistic about you the other day. The last thing my brother needs is another jelly-spined twit with delusions of bringing peace to his soul."

I relaxed a bit. "I still know next to nothing about him."

"Peter... Peeta is one of the strongest, most honorable men I have ever met. He was raised—as was I—to be a gentleman at all times. His injuries, however, have left him... changed. I don't doubt that you will hear language that is quite unsuitable for a lady, and that you will endure treatment that is less than gentle," he told me with a frown.

I bit back the urge to tell him that I was no lady, but instead asked, "How was he injured?"

"Peeta tried to save another man's life during a gas attack. He had almost made it back to the trench with the injured soldier when a shell exploded in front of them. The blast killed the other man and nearly killed Peeta as well." Matthew looked away, but not before I saw the guilt in his eyes. Whatever the man's faults, he loved his brother. That was something I could respect.

I cocked my head to the side curiously. "Peeta?"

Matthew smiled warmly. "A childhood nickname. When I was a small boy, I couldn't say 'Peter'. The name stuck. Even the servants call him Peeta. Only Mother calls him Peter," he explained warmly.

"I suppose I should go meet him," I declared as I cleared my throat.

"Please, allow me to show you to your room first, and then we'll see if my brother is feeling more sociable today."

I followed Mathew to the top of the stairs, barely touching the ornate banister on the way up. Despite his claims that I was more than a servant, I didn't expect a room on the same floor as the family. When he opened the door to the loveliest room I had ever seen, it didn't quite register that this was where I would be staying until I spotted my trunk at the bottom of the bed.

"I'll leave you to settle in a bit and make sure that Peeta is presentable," Mathew said from the door. As I heard him depart, I began to wander around the room.

I had never had a bedroom of my own. I had never even had a bed of my own. Prim and I had always nestled together on a lumpy mattress, but here, I had a majestic four poster bed with a gauzy, white canopy above it. The rest of the furniture around the room was delicately carved oak with a glossy sheen, and the walls were papered with pale pink roses. I hung my few clothes in the wardrobe and gave a wry laugh as I saw that every piece of clothing I owned still didn't fill even a third of it. As I closed the wardrobe, I noticed a door on the far side of the wall.

With curiosity getting the better of me, I opened the door and nearly gasped. The bathroom was also something that I wasn't used to. Our home had an outhouse and there was a pump outside by the back porch, but this was a totally modern bathroom with a porcelain sink and tub. I resisted the childish desire to flush the toilet. I couldn't, however, stop myself from turning on the sink and marveling as warm water ran over my fingertips. I dried my hands on a monogrammed towel, and stared at the door directly across from the one that led to my room. I decided to open that one, too, but as I touched the handle, I heard voices on the other side.

"Christ, Peeta, you smell worse than a dead dog," I heard Matthew say.

I couldn't make out the reply on the other side of the door over the rush of blood sounding in my ears. Peter Mellark's room and mine were connected. I had never slept under the same roof as an unrelated male, and here I was practically sharing a room with a man whose face I had never even seen. Even Gale and I had never slept as close. Still feeling embarrassed, I hurried out of the bathroom and back into my room. I would have to get used to it. After all, as his nurse, I would be helping Peeta with his "private necessities" on a regular basis.

I sat down on the bed and waited for Matthew to come get me. A few minutes later, a knock sounded at my door. I followed Matthew to the same small parlor that I had met the pair in before. He stopped and cleared his throat. "I suppose I should let you two get to know each other a bit. I'll be staying until you get the hang of your duties, and then after that, I won't be back for possibly a month," he told me, gesturing for me to go in alone.

This time, when I entered the room, I was given my first full view of Peeta. He was seated in his chair beside the window with his eyes looking out. Even in profile, I had to admit that he was good-looking. I might have thought him even more handsome than Matthew.His blonde hair was shaggy and in need of washing and his chin sported several days worth of stubble. And unlike his brother's carefully chosen attire, Peeta was dressed carelessly in a stained shirt that looked as though he'd worn it for days on end. His shoulders were wide, but he had the look of a robust man who had lost far too much weight for his frame. My gaze wandered lower and for the first time, I was able to see why he needed the wheelchair. His legs were gone. The right ended just below the knee and the left a few inches above. I finally had a full grasp of why Peeta was so bitter. I must have made a sound, because his eyes suddenly turned in my direction. Though they seemed to find me in the room, his eyes never focused on my face, but it was enough for me to realize what I had been dreading all along. I knew those deep blue eyes.

Peeta was the same boy who had given me the medicine all those years ago.

"I hope you've paid your nickel for the freak show," he said caustically. Peeta's large hands gripped the sides of his chair so tightly that it was a wonder he didn't break them off.

Rather than deny that I'd been staring at him, I snorted. "I'm sure the lion-man act you've worked out goes over very well."

At first he simply blinked at my rude reply, but then his lips began to twitch. "What's your name?"

"Katniss Everdeen. I guess you didn't bother to remember it the first time," I quipped.

This time, he chuckled. "I bet Matthew a dollar that you wouldn't actually come back."

"I'm tougher than that," I warned him half apologetically, and plopped myself down uninvited into the armchair nearest to him.

Peeta nodded. "I really don't need you here," he said flatly.

"Oh? So you are completely fine with spending the rest of your life locked away in this room alone?" I asked provocatively.

"Absolutely," Peeta confirmed with his jaw set firmly and his fists balled into tight fists. "There's not much else for me to do."

Suddenly, a well of anger began to build in my stomach. I thought of Gale, and wondered if this man had ever considered just how much the families of the dead soldiers would give to be able to see their loved ones again. "You're still alive," I reminded him. "I know your family is grateful for that."

Peeta laughed darkly. "I know they are the only people who wish that blast had killed me more than I do myself."

"I take it back," I told him icily as rage gripped me. "You aren't a lion-man at all. You're a selfish, spoiled pig wallowing in self-pity."

Without another word, I stormed out of the parlor and back to my new appointed bedroom. I tossed myself on the bed and wondered how long it would take for Matthew to come tell me that I was fired. I even found myself wishing that I had never come to this place. I wished I wasn't beholden to an ungrateful, spoiled man-child. I closed my eyes and wondered why on earth God would see fit to spare Peeta, yet take Gale.

At some point, I must have fallen asleep. I hadn't slept well for the previous week and the bed beneath me was just too soft to resist. I woke when a soft knock came to my door. Fearing the worst, I took a deep breath and opened the door to reveal Rue. She smiled at me softly. "Sorry to wake you, Miss Katniss, but Mr. Peeta wants you to join him for tea in the parlor."

A bit disoriented and more than a little shocked that Peeta would even want to see me again, I simply stood in front of her like a dummy. "How did you know I was sleeping?" I asked.

"Sure were snoring, Miss," she told me with a chuckle. "Mr. Peeta asked me to push him to your door, but when he heard you snoring..."

"What time is it?" I asked.

"Just after lunch. Mr. Peeta had Nola fix you up some sandwiches to go with tea," Rue said brightly. "I best get downstairs to help Nola ‘fore I get myself in trouble."

The girl smiled over her shoulder at me once more before bounding down the stairs. For a moment, all I could do was stand there and try to piece together what had just happened. Even I knew that I had gone too far earlier. I had let my sadness and anger over losing Gale get me all riled up when I should have just kept my peace. Why did Peeta still want to see me again? Why did he care that I had missed lunch? Why hadn't he sent Rue in to wake my worthless hide so I could get to work? I didn't understand. I walked to parlor on leaden legs to find the answers.

This time when I entered the parlor, Peeta smiled in my direction. He had changed into a clean shirt and his hair had been washed and combed back. It was almost as if I was meeting an entirely different man. "Please, come in and have a seat," he offered politely as he motioned to the chair beside him.

"All right," I agreed as I sat down.

"Help yourself to whatever you'd like. I'd offer to serve you, but I doubt I could do it without serving it into your lap," he joked uneasily.

There was a silver tray on the small table beside us, laden with miniature sandwiches, cakes and a delicate china tea-set. I poured myself a cup of tea and put a few things on a plate for myself. I felt awkward handling the fine cups and plates. My closest experience with tea was when I had watched Mama and Prim play tea party. "What would you like?" I asked.

After I prepared his tea and plate as he asked, we just sat there in silence. I ate everything on my plate without tasting much of it. I watched Peeta's fingers hesitantly search his plate for the last tiny cucumber sandwich and then reach slowly for his tea. Realizing I was crossing the line between curious and rude, I tore my attention from him and finally examined the room that I had been in more than any other in the house so far.

I supposed by rich folk terms the upstairs parlor was meant to be quaint and intimate, but it was still too fussy to suit me. The red brocade sofa facing the fireplace had obviously never seen much use and the marble topped coffee table had been polished to a shine and rarely touched. Even the books on the shelves looked like they were just for show. Against the wall sat a twin to the armchair that I currently sat in. I supposed it had been pushed aside to make room for Peeta's chair. Still, there was nothing about this room that would lead one to believe that people lived here.

Finally, Peeta broke the silence.

"You lost someone in the war," he said quietly. "Who was it?"

"A man I cared for," I answered, looking away. I still didn't want to think of Gale as gone. Talking about him like that tore at the hole in my heart.

"Were you engaged?"

"No. Not yet."

"I hope you'll forgive me for being insensitive earlier," Peeta said sincerely with his gaze almost meeting mine.

My mouth went dry. I had insulted him, yet here he was apologizing to me. "There's nothing to forgive. I may have overreacted a bit."

"A bit," he agreed with slight a grin. "Still, there is no call for my own behavior. I was wondering if it might be possible for us to start over?"

I nodded, then instantly felt stupid for the gesture. "We can. And just how will we meet up this time?"

Peeta smiled. The effect the smile had on his features was amazing. It was as if the shroud covering him had finally been lifted, revealing a boyishness. I wanted so badly to shave away the beard so that I could really see all of him unobstructed.

"We met at a freak show, of course," he told me lightly. "You were the brave girl who came right up to the lion-man's cage and rattled the bars. Only this time, the lion minded his manners."

"He did?"

Peeta nodded. "Absolutely. He knew that the only thing worse than being a lion locked in a cage was to be a heartless pig, and he made the choice not to let that happen."

I swallowed hard. "I think with a haircut, a shave, and maybe even a bath that we can find a man beneath the lion."

"Can we? I'm not sure he still exists. But I promise you, Katniss, I'll try to at least mind my manners," he swore.

I stared dumbfounded at him. If I learned anything that day, it was that Peeta Mellark was nothing like any man I had ever met before. Not even Gale. Peeta wore his heart and soul on his sleeve for the world to see. Right at that moment, I could see the fresh wounds still bleeding. I just didn't know if I had it in me to help him.


	4. Chapter 4

I dreamt of Gale that first night. It wasn't exactly a nightmare, but it was not exactly a good dream either. Gale was running through the woods ahead of me, his long strides moving far too fast for me to even dream of catching up. Every so often, phantom Gale would turn his head towards me to make sure that I still followed him. I finally began to close the space between us. It seemed that he wanted to be caught just as much as I wanted to catch him, but before I could reach out I began to wake. My eyes fluttered open to the pale gray light of morning. I rubbed my face roughly and cursed as I tossed aside the covers.

Still wearing just my nightgown, I walked across the room and huddled the window box with my feet beneath me. I watched as the first rays of dawn began to glimmer across the small lake hidden behind the Mellark house. A gentle wind stirred the willows and moved the waters. I admired the lovely thick trees that surrounded the property almost making it seem as if we were in some storybook forest hidden away from the rest of the world. I wished I could just sit there for a while and maybe drink a cup of coffee, but I knew that I needed to get dressed and be ready for when Peeta woke. Mathew had told me he would show me the kind of assistance Peeta needed.

As I pulled my green day dress out of the wardrobe, my eyes landed longingly on my folded pair of trousers. I was tempted to sneak off to explore the nearby woods, but I wasn't going to press my luck too much just yet. I decided to explore the house instead. For all his politeness, Mathew hadn't shown me much of the house. Not knowing which of the eight bedrooms were his, I crept downstairs to begin there.

I descended the huge staircase quietly. There weren't any signs of anyone else up and about yet, and I intended to do my best to keep it that way. As my feet hit the foyer floor, I noticed that a painting hung on the wall directly to my left. It was a massive thing—probably over five feet tall. Ugly, as well, I thought. I guessed that it was supposed to be some important relative, but it looked more like a portrait of a corpse. The man depicted was almost skeletally thin with limp fair hair and pale eyes. In a way, it reminded me of Mrs. Mellark. Maybe it was the pinched, unpleasant look on his face.

Turning behind me, I entered a formal sitting area. A grand piano sat in the corner with three fine chairs surrounding it and a small sofa just behind. Books lined handsome shelves that sandwiched the marble mantel. I noticed several silver framed photographs around the room, and instantly was drawn to one that I thought I recognized. The boy in the picture was about sixteen or so with a handsome face that hadn't yet gained the hollows and lines of manhood. His eyes stared out at me with the unabashed openness of innocence. I knew this face. This boy was the one who gave me the medicine for Prim, and became the man I was now charged with taking care of. My gaze scanned the other pictures but none held my attention the way the picture of young Peeta had.

I continued down the hall farther past the office and dining room that I had already seen. The back living room was far less formal but no less grand. I could easily see that this was where the family had spent the most time. The dark leather couch and overstuffed armchairs looked expensive, but had obvious signs of wear on them. A small table sat in the corner with two chairs on either side and a chessboard on top. Curiously, the game on the board looked unfinished, and I briefly wondered who had been playing. Before I could continue on, a wonderful scent caught my attention.

Coffee. The scent of the dark liquid wafted through the dining room enticing my nose toward the kitchen entrance. From behind the heavy wooden door, I could also hear the warm sounds of laughter. I hesitated for just a moment before opening it.

Inside, I spotted Thresh leaning languidly on the counter and Rue sitting at the table. In front of the stove, a large black woman stood with a spoon that had stilled in her grasp. All three stared at me uneasily. Thresh immediately stood up straight and headed for the back door while the unnamed cook continued stirring whatever was in the pot in front of her. Rue was the only one who seemed unperturbed my presence. She smiled warmly. "Good morning, Miss Katniss. Is there something I can get for you?"

I smiled back and tried not to feel hurt by their wariness. "I just smelled the coffee and hoped you wouldn't mind sparing a cup."

The woman at the stove set aside her work. "I'll brew up a fresh pot and bring it to your room right away, miss," she told me. Maybe it was the way her eyes never met mine, but something told me that she felt the same way about me that I did about Mrs. Mellark that day in the office.

"I'm sorry, ma'am. I don't know your name yet. I'm Katniss," I said as I offered my hand.

"I'm Nola," she returned as she placed her hand in mine cautiously. Nola grasped my fingers solidly for a moment, and stared down at them. I think it was my many callouses that changed her mind about me, and without any farther talk, she poured me some coffee in a humble mug.

Rue beamed at me as I pulled out a chair beside her at the old, scarred table. "You checked on Mr. Peeta yet?" she asked.

I frowned. "I thought Mathew said that he didn't usually wake until after nine," I said recalling our conversation at dinner the night before.

Back at the stove, Nola let out a disgruntled harrumph. "That's 'cause Mr. Mathew don't get up 'til after nine. Thresh's been checking in on that boy every mornin' since that other girl done run off," she told me flatly. "Bet that's where Thresh at right now. Ain't got nothing else made yet, but I can fix you a bowl of grits if you'd like before you go up."

"No," I replied ignoring my empty stomach. "I'll go up now. I'm glad you told me." I finished my coffee in hasty gulps and set the mug in the sink before hurrying upstairs.

I knocked lightly on the door ten before cracking it open. Peeta's room was the masculine twin to mine with dark blue walls and walnut furniture. I instantly spotted Peeta sitting up on his bed stripping off his pajama top, and I froze. Without turning toward me, he accomplished his task revealing wide shoulders that sported an array of freckles and a long scar that wove on down his rib cage. He discarded the garment carelessly. "What time is it, Thresh?" he asked as I stared.

"Thresh isn't here," I said softly.

"Christ!" he swore and began fumbling for his shirt. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

I swallowed hard and forced myself forward. "My job," I replied simply. "And it's just a little after six, by the way. Do you need help with the bottoms?"

Peeta breathed heavily. His body was held taut like he expected an attack. Finally, he turned toward me and fixed a glare that almost hit his mark. "You can help by going to get Thresh and leaving my room."

"I can help you by  _helping_  you. I am here to be your nurse, Peeta. There's no need to be prudish," I told him as I made my farther into his den. "Now can you take them off on your own or do you need me to help?"

"I can get them," he ground out through clenched teeth. "But please, get Thresh. I need help in the bathroom."

It hadn't occurred to me that he would have to relieve himself, even as obvious as it was. I felt my cheeks go warm, and I hoped my discomfort didn't reach my voice. "Well, then... we'll take care of it. Do you use a bed pan... or can you make it onto the toilet?" I asked trying to make it sound like this kind of thing was normal.

"The toilet," Peeta answered quietly. I could see at that moment that he realized this was an argument he was not going to win. His cheeks had gone scarlet, and I instantly felt for him. How horrible to have to rely on others for even the most basic things! Still, I knew intuitively that to pity him now was to go down a road that would only hurt him more.

"I'll get your chair," I told him as I went over where it was parked along the wall. Peeta's wheelchair was much nicer than the one that Doc had for patients at his little clinic. It was brand-new with comfortable looking cushions and spoked wheels that moved smoothly. Compared to the only other one I'd ever pushed, it was much lighter. I assumed it would make things easier for Peeta, but still I had a hard time thinking of the thing at the time as anything other than a prison.

"Pull it up beside me and put on the brakes. I can get in on my own," Peeta told me roughly.

I did as he said and stood back with my hands aching to hover over him protectively. He reached out to confirm where the chair was in relation to himself and then spun himself around before inching himself backward. It was an ungainly process, but he was indeed able to do it himself. Once he was settled I pushed him into the bathroom and stopped in front of the toilet.

"I can do this, too. Just stand outside the door," he commanded.

"All right," I agreed reluctantly and did as I was told. Back in Peeta's bedroom, I busied myself with picking up the shirt he'd tossed aside and located a set of clean clothes for him. In almost no time, I had found what I was looking for and laid the clothes out on his bed. I couldn't help but notice that the legs of his trousers had been folded over and sewn shut. A moment later, I heard him call out for me.

Peeta had managed to get himself back into his chair by the time I came back in. I turned to the bathtub and put in the rubber stopper. "You need a bath before we get you in clean clothes," I told him pressing on.

His eyes nearly met mine. "So are you enjoying this? Lording over the poor blind cripple?"

"Not at all," I told him forcing myself to meet his unfocused gaze dead on before turning on the water defiantly. "But I'll enjoy being around you a heck of a lot more when you don't stink like something even a skunk wouldn't come near."

"I washed up a bit with the basin yesterday," Peeta sullenly countered.

"Not good enough."

"You actually want me to get into the tub?" he asked incredulously. "How do you think I'm going to get in and out of it?"

"I can help you," I answered.

He snorted. "I'll only get in if you get Thresh. I am not going to let you break my damn neck and yours too."

"All right," I agreed feeling a small kernel of relief. I would have fought like hell to get him in the bathtub, but I had to admit that he was probably right. Peeta was a solidly built man, and even as strong as I was, it was doubtful I'd have been able to lift him. Still at least he'd agreed to the bath.

Thresh wasn't too hard to find. I could hear the steady beat of a hammer start as soon as I got to the bottom of the stairs. Thresh was hard at work on what appeared to be a ramp over the back stairs. His hammer stopped mid swing as I approached. He didn't say hello or even anything at all. He just stood there waiting for me to get on with it.

"Could you please help me get Mr. Peeta into the bathtub?" I asked uncomfortably as his eyes bore holes into me.

"Yes, Miss," he replied mechanically as he set aside his hammer.

I followed in his wake toward the stairs. "Please let me know when he's finished," I requested feeling quite useless.

Instead of going back to Peeta's room, I went to the kitchen. I figured I might as well make up a tray for Peeta's breakfast. The smell of fresh biscuits nearly made me weak in the knees as I watched Nola pull the pan from the oven. She smiled and pulled one right off the pan. "Help yourself. There's jam and butter on the table," Nola told me as she handed it to me.

My stomach grumbled at the mere thought. "Thank you," I said taking the hot biscuit carefully. I sat down and savored every bite slowly.

"He toss you out?" Nola asked with a half amused chuckle.

"No, Thresh is helping him bathe. I'd like to get a tray ready for Peeta after his bath," I told her as I resisted the urge to lick the bit of jam from my fingertips.

Nola's dark brows shot up. "A bath? Praise, Jesus! That boy's not let anyone help him with that since we got here. Now, ain't you just a miracle worker?"

"Just stubborn," I told her with a smirk.

"Think you can get him to eat a whole meal?" she asked her eyes suddenly serious.

"I can try."

Nola nodded and wiped her hands on her apron. "You go on up and see to Mr. Peeta. I'll send up a tray for the both of you."

By the time I made it back to Peeta's room, he was out of the tub and dressed. As soon as I entered the room, Thresh excused himself and the two of us were left alone again. Peeta's eyes seemed to follow me as I moved across the bedroom. "I hope my scent is less offensive to your delicate feminine sensibilities now," he said mockingly.

"My sensibilities and everyone else's. I am not the only one who has to smell you," I reminded him. "After all, there are others who have come to care for the lion-man."

At my mention of our conversation the night before, Peeta's lips quirked upward at the ends. "I'm surprised you aren't after me with a razor now."

"I think I have put you through enough for our first morning," I told him lightly.

Peeta's hands gripped the wheels of his chair and he pushed himself forward ever so slowly. "I can only imagine how gray my hair will be by the time you're done with me. I may be a lion-man but you are a veritable Amazon."

"An Amazon?" I asked curiously.

He chuckled. "You know, the Amazons. The legendary warrior women from Greek mythology."

I didn't know the Amazons. My education had been basic, at best. I had barely made it to the ninth grade before I quit school. I could read, write, and do some math. I knew my American history and my Bible verses, but I hadn't studied the ancient Greeks. I guess it was just one more way that I was a world apart from the Mellarks. Shaking away the feelings of inadequacy, I asked: "So what do mean by that?"

"I mean that I should just give in and lose all my battles in one day." Peeta rubbed the golden stubble on his face. "Besides, after four weeks without shaving, I think my efforts of growing a beard are rather pathetic. Do you want to wait until Mathew's awake, or can you handle a razor without slitting my throat?"

I laughed. "I doubt your mother would pay me if I killed you."

"Or she might just make you rich woman. Still, I would rather survive my first shave by Miss Everdeen," he teased.

"That's what they all say," I quipped.

As I gathered his shaving things, I noticed that his gaze seemed to follow me. Finally, I gathered the courage to ask what I had been wondering since yesterday. "How much can you see?"

Peeta shrugged. "At first, I couldn't see anything, but as days went by I began to see light. For a while, I had hoped that my sight would return to normal. Then I got the point where I could make out colors and blurred shapes in bright light—no real detail, just patches of color and motion. After that, things have stayed the same every since. The doctor told me that with head injuries like mine, anything is possible, but he didn't offer any real hope."

"But I thought you were hurt by the gas?"

"No," he replied ironically. "I was lucky enough to get my mask on. Not like...well, not like some of the others. I hit my head when I was thrown back by the explosion."

"Oh," I said not really sure what else to say.

Peeta drummed his fingers on the armrest of his chair. "Are we doing this or not?"

In no time, I managed to reveal Peeta's full lips and sculpted jaw from behind his beard. True, he no longer looked like the lion-man, but nor was he the young man in the downstairs photograph either. It was disconcerting to realize that I had been right earlier: Peeta was more handsome than Mathew. His features—like his brother's—were strong and refined, but there was a kindness etched in his face that Mathew lacked. Peeta ran his fingertips over his now smooth cheeks.

"Do I look presentable again?" he asked.

Before I could answer, the door opened without warning and Mathew appeared. He stared at the two of us with near slack-jawed wonder for almost a full minute before regaining his composure. "Peeta, you look like yourself again," he said in amazement. I could have sworn I saw a glimmering in Mathew's eyes, but I ignored it.

Peeta shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "I guess so," he muttered.

Mathew cleared his throat. "Nola told me you would both be taking breakfast upstairs this morning. Would you mind if I join you?"

"If that's what you want," Peeta shrugged.

It was strange to watch them interact. Mere moments ago, Peeta had been so open, so relaxed. Why was he so distant again with his brother? I didn't understand. And clearly, from Mathew's hurt expression, neither did he.

"Well, I don't want to intrude," Mathew said.

"You're not intruding," I cut in.

"You're not," Peeta agreed without much emotion.

Mathew nodded. "I'll go help Thresh carry up a bigger table for us to eat at." Before he left, Mathew turned to me thoughtfully. "Katniss, if I might have a word with you in the hallway."

"Is everything all right?" I asked once we were outside.

"Better than all right," he smiled. "I think I'll be heading to Pittsburgh tomorrow morning. Some business has come up, and I would say that you are more than capable of looking after my brother."

Mathew spent most of that afternoon in the upstairs parlor with Peeta. I decided to let them have some time alone, and gave in to my natural urge to explore. Nola told me that there were clear paths through the woods. I supposed that in my nice new dresses the paths would have to do for now, but I made a mental note to sneak out some morning in my trousers.

Pennsylvania was quite beautiful in the early summer, everything lush and vibrant green. I loved how crisp the air was when the wind blew threw the trees and how the sunlight streamed through the trees casting halos of green and gold around. Though the paths were well worn, the terrain was very hilly. Within in an hour, I began to feel the heat of the day underneath my petticoats. I spotted a downed tree along the way and decided to take a minute to cool off a bit. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the peace of the moment. And then I heard a suspicious snap above my head.

My gaze shot upward instantly, and I spotted a very unexpected sight in the tree's branches. Rue smiled down at me guiltily from her perch. "Hello, Miss Katniss."

"What are you doing up there?" I asked trying not to laugh.

In her barefeet, Rue climbed down with a deftness that told me this was far from the first time she'd done it. Once she hit the ground, she lowered her head. "Please, don't tell anyone, Miss Katniss. I won't do it again!"

"Do what? Climb a tree?" I asked in confusion.

Rue bit her lip and reluctantly pulled a book from her apron. "I know I shouldn't have taken it."

I was still confused. There were dozens of books lining the shelves of the Mellark household. Why would someone care if Rue read one? Unless... "You were going to return it, weren't you, Rue?"

She nodded. "Mrs. Mellark says it's not good for the colored help to be reading. She says it makes us too high-minded."

"Why that old witch!" I cried in outrage. Oh, I had heard some white folks say some pretty horrible things about black folks, but my parents had brought us up to believe that a man's color didn't define him. Just like our poverty didn't define us. I just couldn't believe that Mrs. Mellark would say something so utterly despicable to a girl as sweet as Rue. If I hadn't already disliked the woman, I would have now.

"You sure are different from the last nurse that came here," Rue said thoughtfully. "Sure are different from most white women I know, too."

"Why is that?" I asked.

Rue shrugged. "Most white women I've seen are too busy primping in the mirror and fawning over their husbands to care about much else. And they'd never, ever sit down at the same table as the folks that made their food."

I laughed. "So maybe I am different. Sounds like you only have seen rich white women."

"Only white women I have ever known are the ones that Mama works for and Mrs. Mellark and her guests," Rue confirmed.

"Do you have time for a walk?" I asked. It felt good to be around Rue. It almost made me miss Prim a tiny bit less—almost.

Rue grabbed her shoes and a pail from behind the tree. "Mind if we go on up to the berry patch? I am supposed to bring back a bucket of berries for a pie. Nola wants to make one for Mr. Peeta."

"How long have you worked for the Mellarks?" I asked as we walked.

"Going on two years now. Daddy's been Mr. Mellark's driver since forever it seems, and I took on work to help out. I'm the oldest, you see," she explained.

I nodded. I understood all right. "How old are you?"

"Sixteen come July," Rue answered with a smile.

I had suspected Rue was about Prim's age. The pair both had a maturity despite their age and tiny stature that spoke volumes about them. At times, I swore she even moved like Prim. Maybe that was the reason I was so fond of her. I hoped the day would come when I would get to introduce the pair.

As we walked back with a full pail of berries, the Mellark house came into view. Even from a distance, it was commanding. I had an urge to just go back to the woods, but it was nearly sunset and I knew that I should be back before dinner. Rue bid me goodbye at the fence and went around to the back of the house. I assumed it was one of a million things that I didn't understand about being a servant in the Mellark household. Had it not been for Mathew's speech about my being a valued companion, I would have followed her.

I expected to find Mathew still in the parlor upstairs with Peeta, but Peeta was alone at the window once more. The sense of deja vu was almost sickening. I felt like from one second to the next I didn't know what Peeta was thinking or how he would act. I wondered if that would ever change.

"Did you enjoy your day with Mathew?" I asked from the doorway. My only answer was stony silence. So I tried again. "Nola's baking blackberry pie. Rue told me it was your favorite."

"Just go away," Peeta told me softly. His voice was rough and he didn't even bother to face me.

"Tell me why you want me to leave and I just might," I said firmly.

"You really don't understand, do you?" he asked. "It hurts to feel like a man again, and then realize that I'll never be anything more than a burden to anyone."

I swallowed hard. "You're still you, Peeta. You're still a man, and I know there is still a lot that you can give to the world."

Peeta seemed to consider that for a split second, but then laughed bitterly. "For a moment, I almost believed you gave a damn more than just because you are paid to."

I sat down in the armchair nearest him and stared at my hands. "You probably don't remember, I am sure, but you saved my sister's life. How could I not care?"

Peeta turned toward me curiously. "I saved your sister's life? I've never even met her—hell, I didn't even know you had a sister until right now."

"She was very sick and I couldn't afford the medicine... and..."

"That was you?" Peeta asked as his eyes widened. "It couldn't have been you."

"It was me. I know I should have thanked you, but I just couldn't bear that I owed you so much," I rambled.

Peeta shook his head. "There's no need to thank me. I remember that you smiled at me before you ran out of the store. That was enough for me. You were so sad, and all I could think was that a girl as pretty as you shouldn't be so sad."

"You have no idea how grateful I am for what you did," I confessed.

I had never planned on telling Peeta about that day. I didn't think it would matter to him who I was, but I was wrong. There was something heartbreaking about Peeta's smile as he looked toward me. "So you care for me out of gratitude rather than greed," he said sadly. "Well, I suppose if I had to choose."

"Will you come down for dinner?" I asked awkwardly, hoping to change the subject.

"No. I'd like my meal up here. I'd just like to eat and go to bed if that's all right with you," he replied lifelessly. "And there isn't any need to eat up here with me. I'd like to be alone."

I wanted to push away that look of hurt from his eyes, but I didn't know how. Peeta was right. I didn't understand what he had been through. I didn't know the man that he was before.

I did as he instructed, and ate yet another icy meal in the dining room with his brother that night. After the meal, Mathew invited me join him in the living room, and I agreed just so that I could delay seeing Peeta again for a while. I sat on the sofa and sipped at the awful tasting sherry he poured for me. Mathew paced in front of the fire with a cigar smoking in one hand and a glass of brandy in the other. Peeta's sadness seemed to take up the whole house no matter where you were or who you were with. I noticed how Mathew's eyes seemed drawn to the chessboard.

"Do you play?" he asked as soon as he caught my interest.

"I don't know how, but it looks like the pieces weren't ever put away," I commented.

He finished his drink in one quick gulp. "That's because they weren't. Peeta and I had a tradition. Every year on our last night here we would play half a game and then continue it when we came back the next. It gave us a new perspective, you see. One year older, one year wiser. I guess this one will stay unfinished."

I wanted to tell him that they could still continue the game, but I just didn't have it left in me. "I'm very tired, Mathew," I lied. "I think I'll check on Peeta and then go to bed."

By the time I went upstairs, Peeta was already in his bed. I shyly opened the door to Peeta's room, and listened for a moment at the doorway. In the darkness, I could barely make out his form beneath the covers.

"Katniss? Is that you?" Peeta asked as he sat up.

"It's me," I confirmed as I stepped inside. "Did you need something?"

"Nothing... I had heard...well, never mind," he grumbled nervously.

I frowned. "Heard what?"

"It's nothing," he muttered. "I was just wondering if you would leave the doors between our rooms open. You know, just in case."

Logically, I knew that Peeta wouldn't be able to see me through the cracked doors, and that it wasn't like he was able to come into my room uninvited with his wheelchair still parked along the wall. Still the thought of having fewer physical barriers between us was somewhat unnerving. Then again, I knew what my duty was, and if Peeta needed something during the night, it was my job to take care of it.

"I'll open them right now," I agreed.

"Thank you, Katniss," he said as he laid back down. "Good night."

"Good night."


	5. Chapter 5

My third day at the Mellark's began quite groggily. With the door open between us, I laid awake most of the night listening for sounds from Peeta's room. I did a lot of thinking about Peeta and Gale, catalogin the differences between the two of them. Gale was a good man, but he lacked the inherent kindness that Peeta possessed. If Gale and I fought, it usually meant that we didn't speak for a day or two, since neither of us would back down and apologize. It didn't mean that he didn't care, but Gale's pride usually took precedence over my feelings. Peeta, on the other hand, couldn't bear knowing that he had hurt me. He swallowed his pride and moved forward. I wondered how Gale would have handled circumstances had he been in Peeta's situation. Somehow, I just didn't think Gale had the kind of fortitude it would take to survive that kind of life, but Peeta still had a chance to overcome this.

The sun wasn't yet peaking above the horizon when I finally decided to get up. Everything about my life had been on someone else's terms since I had arrived here; I had let my whole life spin off-course. This time I wasn't going to give in. I pulled on my trousers and silently slipped out of the house. I needed to clear my head, and to restore some sense of normalcy to my days.

I headed down to the tiny dock and boathouse that sat on the edge of the lake. It was still too dark to head out into the woods without knowing where I was going. Instead, I plopped down cross-legged and listened to the water's subtle ebb and flow. A fish broke the lake's surface and swallowed up an unlucky dragonfly.

Idly, I wondered if Peeta liked to fish. If he did, I didn't see any reason why he couldn't still do so. When I was a child, Papa had taken me out to the creek and taught me to swim and to fish. I didn't have the patience required to really love fishing the way I loved hunting, but it was relaxing on occasion. Later on, Gale and I had poached from old farmer Edgar's pond a time or two.

I smiled as I remembered how fast we had run off the one time we'd been caught. I could still remember how Gale had pushed me up against an old elm and clamped a hand over my mouth to keep me quiet as the enraged farmer had stalked off in the wrong direction. I'd been sixteen at the time and Gale eighteen. I think it was the first time I realized that he was a man, and a handsome one at that. His strong, lean body had been pressed hard against mine, and I became acutely aware of how the sun glanced off his dark hair. Gale held me for longer than he should have, even after Mr. Edgar had given up his chase, he just continued staring at me with his gray eyes. I think he wanted to kiss me, and I'd wanted it too. But instead, he just let me go and we pretended for a while that it had never happened. It was easier to go on as friends.

By the time that we finally crossed that line, I was nineteen. I'd been working for Haymitch for almost a year and Gale had grudgingly taken a job at the mine like his late father before him. Having jobs had significantly cut down on the amount of time we spent together in the woods, but I think as a result we enjoyed our time together more. We were returning from the woods the morning it happened. Gale and I had just finished cleaning up in the stream when he reached out and touched my cheek without warning. Before I could react, his mouth had covered mine. I could still remember the feel of him. His cheeks were slightly rough and his lips were firm. I melted into him as his tongue forcefully parted my lips. It felt like he was claiming me—an alarming, but exciting notion. Kissing him had seemed like one of the most natural things in the world.

Only Gale had understood me. The other kids in school, even his younger brother, had treated me like I was a freak. No boy wanted a girl who could run faster and hit harder than he could, as a friend or otherwise. And I had managed to further alienate the male population in school by declaring that I never wanted to get married and be a mommy, that what I wanted was to be a tracker when I grew up. Everyone laughed at me, everyone but Gale. He had been the one to encourage me to be who I wanted, no matter the consequences. In return, I understood that he didn't want to be just another man in the mines anymore than I wanted to be a housewife. I think it was our rebelliousness that drew us together. So long as we were out in the woods together, no one could tell us who to be or how to act. Out there, we controlled our own destinies.

But now, Gale was gone, and I felt like I controlled nothing. I stood up and stared back at the main house. This wasn't where I belonged, but I had the choice to take control of how I let that change me. Brushing off my trousers, I sighed. It was time I faced what was in front of me. Dwelling on the past didn't make the present any easier. I had a job to do.

I returned to the house and decided to check on Peeta before changing. I reasoned that if I went through the bathroom, I wouldn't get caught. After all, it wasn't as if Peeta could tell what I was wearing anyway. I knocked on his door.

"Come in," he called. Peeta was sitting up in bed still wearing his pajamas. His eyes were surrounded by dark circles, and I could tell he had slept as well as I did.

"Good morning," I said as I wheeled his chair up beside the bed.

"Good morning," he replied. "Did you sleep well?"

"Just fine," I lied.

Peeta pulled himself into his chair, and we went about our morning routine silently. There were no argument about what needed to be done; we just went about it like it we'd been doing it forever. I think I almost preferred the arguing. Peeta seemed so resigned. At least when he was fighting me it seemed like he cared. His silence made it seem like he was giving up, and that was much worse.

"Did your brother tell you that he's leaving today?" I asked trying to draw him out.

He shrugged. "I've been telling him to go for weeks. There's no point in him sitting around here blaming himself."

"Why would he blame himself?" It seemed like such a curious thing to say. Mathew certainly hadn't started the war.

"Because it was his idea that we join the war effort," Peeta said plainly. "He wanted to go off and fight. Mathew was the one who convinced me that it would look good for my political aspirations if I served."

I frowned. "If he joined the army, then why is he still at home?"

"Mother had a fit when she found out what we were doing...well, what he was doing. She couldn't have cared less if I went or not, but Mathew is the Mellark family scion. It wouldn't do for him to die in a trench, so he stayed home," Peeta explained. The emotionless tone of his voice spoke louder than any words could. Whether he meant to or not, he still resented his brother for it.

"You could have stayed out of it too," I said still trying to swallow the lump in my throat.

"Could I have? More than anything, I wanted to get into politics—maybe even Congress. How could I ask people to vote me into office if I wasn't willing to bleed for my country? No, the one thing Mathew had right about this whole mess was that I  _should_ have gone," he declared firmly. "And better me than Mathew, right? He has a bright future ahead of him."

"You still have a future, Peeta. Maybe not the one you'd have had otherwise, but you're still alive." I put a hand on his shoulder, and his fingers covered mine.

"I know you believe that, but what kind of future can I have? One where you push me around for the rest of my life," he surmised darkly.

An idea struck me. "No, one where you push yourself. I'll just guide you a little. I'm going to get dressed, and then we'll go to the parlor."

I think Peeta was about to disagree, but instead, his eyes widened. "You're in your nightgown?"

"No," I answered damning my own stupidity. "I put on a pair of trousers and went outside for a bit this morning."

He shook his head and laughed. "I like picturing you in trousers. Something about it just seems right."

My first instinct was to ask how exactly he pictured me, but I knew I probably wouldn't like the answer. I sighed. "I'm going to change before your brother sees me," I told him. "I'll be back in just a minute."

That morning we worked out a basic idea for how Peeta could push his own chair. It was going to take more than one day to master, but it was indeed possible for him to move on his own with someone merely giving directions from behind. When I tried to stand beside him or in front, he usually ended up rolling into my ankles. It took a few tries before we found a rhythm, with Peeta's chair banging into the walls and into a small decorative table. Each time he hit something he looked a bit frustrated, but resolutely carried on. I could see that he liked being in control of where he was going. We made it up and down the hall a few times and then back to his bedroom.

Peeta's forehead was dotted with perspiration from the effort, but he didn't complain. After being mostly inactive for so long, he no longer had the arm strength he once had. I didn't doubt for a minute that he would be sore later from it, but there was no way around it: he had a long way to go before he'd be able to push himself exclusively. If I had learned anything from being with Haymitch, it was that the longer a patient was in a bed doing next to nothing the harder the recovery. I wasn't going to tell Peeta, but I had already decided that he was mostly done with my interference for the morning before I left him to his own devices.

"Can you see where the doorways are?" I asked.

He nodded. "I can see where the wood is darker than the walls."

"Good," I said with a smile. "And you know that the parlor is the third door on the left from your bedroom. I'll meet you there in a few minutes after I go get Thresh and speak to Nola."

"What do you need Thresh for?" he asked with a frown. Peeta certainly wasn't stupid. He had already figured out what I was doing.

"We're going to eat breakfast at the dining room table with your brother," I explained as I headed for the stairs. I heard him blustering behind me, but completely ignored it.

As I expected, I found Rue, Thresh, and Nola in the kitchen. Save Thresh who silently moved to the counter as I helped myself to some coffee, we all murmured our good mornings. I pulled up the chair beside Rue. "There's no need to make up trays this morning," I announced.

Nola looked up from the maple glaze she was stirring. "He not eating again?"

"Oh, he's going to eat," I assured her. I turned my gaze toward Thresh. "If you wouldn't mind helping Peeta down, he'd like to eat at the table."

Thresh merely nodded.

"That his idea or yours?" Nola asked with her arms crossed.

"I'll get him out of that room even if I have to roll his butt down the stairs," I said determinedly.

Rue giggled. "Poor Mr. Peeta don't stand a chance!"

"You have a care with that boy, Miss Katniss," Nola chided. "A man can only bend over 'til he break, and Mr. Peeta don't have much more room to bend. Wouldn't 'a been half so bad if not for that lil' hussy."

"What little hussy?" I asked in a low, conspiratorial tone.

Nola frowned. "He was engaged to Miss Delly Cartwright. Right after Mr. Peeta got home, her daddy came and told him that she didn't want to marry him anymore. Girl didn't even have the heart in her to come and tell him herself."

"What kind of person could do that?"

"A selfish, foolish one who never loved my brother anyway," a strong voice said stonily from the doorway.

I snapped my head around to see Mathew standing there with a scowl. "There will be no gossiping in this house, Miss Everdeen," he told me icily. "Take Thresh up with you and go get Peeta. I already brought out his second chair."

"Yes, sir," I answered formally. I certainly didn't like the way Mathew was acting, but I could understand it to a degree. It must hurt to hear us bringing up matters like that.

Peeta was waiting at the top of the stairs for us. He didn't seem happy about Thresh carrying him downstairs, but he didn't argue. I watched as he wrapped his arms around Thresh's neck, and the pair made a slow journey down the steps. Despite Mathew's words that Thresh could easily carry Peeta, I could see that it wasn't exactly that simple. A few times, the larger man had to reposition his arms beneath Peeta's rear to keep him from falling. By the time they made it to the bottom and Peeta was safely in his chair, Thresh looked exhausted.

"Thank you, Thresh," Peeta murmured uncomfortably.

"You made it," I said once we were alone in the hall.

"I did," he agreed. "Let's get breakfast over with. I'm sure my brother wants to get on his way soon."

I pushed Peeta to the dining room and straight to the spot beside Mathew. The chair had already been pulled away to allow Peeta easy access. Mathew had taken the liberty of having steaming plates of food already brought out for us. I took my spot across from Peeta.

Mathew smiled. "It's good to have you down here again."

"Well, enjoy it. I don't intend to have Thresh kill himself bringing me down here everyday," Peeta said contrarily. He reached out feeling the table for something, and Mathew instantly placed a glass of orange juice in his grasp. Peeta's eyes narrowed. "And I don't need you feeding me like some kind of infant."

"You're not an infant, Peeta," Mathew sighed. "Still there is nothing wrong with a man in your...situation accepting help."

"Maybe you just should have let Mother toss me into an institution like she wanted," Peeta spat out caustically.

A muscle ticked in Mathew's taught jaw, but he didn't answer Peeta's barb. He took a large forkful of eggs and shoveled them into his mouth. "You should have Katniss help you write a letter to Aunt Effie before I leave. She's been worried sick about you," he said finally.

Peeta grunted his dissent.

"Will you be staying with her in Pittsburgh?" I asked in hopes of relieving a bit of tension.

"No. I own a home a there. I've recently taken over most of my father's business ventures on the Western side of the state. We just opened a plant a little north of the city where we will be building train cars," he explained. It seemed that Mathew was more comfortable talking about business than anything else, because he droned on for some time about all of the new avenues there were to explore in the industrial world today.

I tried to listen, but my eyes kept drifting across the table. I watched as Peeta ate two slices of plain toast and then merely picked at the rest of the food on his plate. Though I had noticed him doing something similar the day before, I mostly thought it was just his way of being contrary. It hadn't occurred to me that Peeta was self-conscious about eating in front of others. I wanted to help him, but after his little outburst at Mathew, I was hesitant to do so.

Mathew stopped talking and stared at me. My cheeks reddened as I realized he had asked me something that required a reply. "I'm sorry. My mind wandered a bit."

"A woman's head for business, I see," he chuckled.

I bit my lip so hard that I tasted blood. The physical pain helped me keep my hard-fought composure.

"It doesn't matter if it is a man or woman you're talking to, Mathew. You are a bore," Peeta cut in. "I don't think anyone other than Father can stand it when you go on like that."

"Quite right," Mathew agreed graciously. He nodded in my direction. "I do apologize."

"It's all right," I said breathing a silent sigh of gratitude. I would definitely have to thank Peeta later on.

We finished breakfast without any further bickering, but it is a silent meal. Mathew excused himself to go finish packing, leaving Peeta and I alone once more.

Peeta's features were sullen. "Can I ask you something, Katniss?"

"Sure," I reply a little hesitantly.

"Looking at me like this... With only part of my legs left, am I revolting?" he asked softly. He reminded me of a little boy, a child searching for some kind of acceptance, aching to be loved.

"No," I reply honestly. "You look different, but not the least bit revolting. Did someone say that about you?"

"Forget it," he told me turning his head away. I think he was afraid that I would see the truth written on his face, but I already knew the answer. And I wished I could personally beat both his mother and former fiance each to a pulp for it.

"Thresh finished the ramp off of the back porch yesterday. It would be nice to sit outside for a bit," I suggested.

"I haven't been outside since they brought me here three weeks ago," he admitted with a grim smile.

I pushed Peeta off the back porch and across the yard. The uneven ground made it difficult, but I managed it. Once we were underneath the shaded leaves of a maple tree, I sat down on the ground beside his chair.

It really was a lovely morning. The grass beneath me was still a bit damp, and it hadn't gotten very hot yet. Peeta closed his eyes and breathed in deeply as a gentle breeze blew by us. He reached over the side of his chair and felt the blades of grass with his finger tips. It was the most serene I had seen him since we'd met. I closed my eyes and tried to "see" the world as Peeta was at that moment. There were birds above us chirping happily in the tree above, and I could feel the sunlight moving across my face as the wind shifted the boughs. He might not say it, but I knew that this was something that he needed.

"Do your legs still hurt?" I asked curiously.

"You mean the stumps that are left?" he quipped.

I rolled my eyes and heaved a sigh. "I mean, would it hurt you if we got you out of the chair? Are you still healing?"

"It wouldn't hurt me, but I don't think I could get back up off of the ground," he answered with a look of longing.

"We'll get you back in the chair," I declared. I touched his shoulder and positioned myself at his side. "Just tell me how to help you."

"Keep the chair from kicking out from under me," he told me as he slid himself to the edge of the seat. With one hand resting on the ground and one clutching the side, he pushed himself out ungracefully. I pulled the wheelchair out of the way, and watched silently as he pulled himself back until he was resting against the tree.

"That didn't seem so bad," I said as I sat beside him. My arm brushed against his and I couldn't help but realize that this was the first time I had been so close to him.

"Say that when you're helping pull my butt back up," Peeta smirked. He touched the bark of the tree lightly. "Still, it feels good to be free for a bit."

"Before I came here, I spent at least part of every day in the forest," I reminisced. I left out that I was usually out hunting for dinner while I was there.

"In the summer, I used to sit out here or on the dock with my sketchbook for hours on end. Mother would get angry when I came back inside with charcoal-stained fingers, but I didn't care," he told me with a smile. Then his smile slowly faded. "I miss being able to draw."

"Have you tried?"

Peeta shrugged. "Once I got some of my sight back, one of the nurses in the hospital suggested I try to write my parents a letter. She hoped that with the contrast of the paper and the ink, that I would be able to read if I held it very close to my face. All I did was frustrate myself."

"At least you got some of your sight back," I murmured. I had never been one to look for the bright side of things, but there was just something about Peeta that made me want to try. It seemed in some ways that the scales had been cosmically-tipped against Peeta. So much had been stripped away from him by the war. I wished there was a way to give maybe even just a little of it back. I wished a great many things, none of them I could deliver. Then I remembered an old saying Papa used to be fond of:  _If wishes were horses then beggars would ride_.

He nodded with a rueful smile. "Would you think less of me as a man if I admitted to you that I cried when I saw the sunlight again for the first time?"

"Not at all. I would have, too."

We slipped into a companionable silence. Peeta sat with his eyes closed and his head leaned against the tree trunk. I would have thought he was asleep, but every so often he would gently tug at a blade of grass or smile at the sound of a bird overhead. In no time, I felt my own eyes getting heavy. To avoid dozing off, I focused on the clouds above me, trying to see the shape in each of them as they passed.

Before too long, Mathew came outside. He was dressed in a light gray suit and wore a bowler hat—looking every bit the businessman Peeta had accused him of being. As he approached, I noted that he seemed reluctant to interrupt our peace.

"Enjoying the nice weather, I see," he commented.

Peeta sat up straighter and forced a smile. "I think the last time I was outside for this long I had some kraut shooting at me," he joked.

"Well, I don't think there are any Germans around for at least a few miles." Mathew looked away uneasily. "I'm going to get on the road soon. Is there anything you need before I leave?"

"No. Just please give Aunt Effie my best. Tell her I am on my way to becoming a well adjusted cripple," Peeta said wryly.

The look of guilt that clouded Mathew's eyes was worth more than a thousand words. It was plain to see that he would take on all of Peeta's pain and suffering if he could. I knew it because that was how I would feel if it were me and Prim. I wondered if Peeta realized just how much his brother loved him and how much Mathew hurt for him. I doubted it. If I had learned anything about the youngest Mellark, it was that he wasn't the kind to manipulate others even when he had the chance.

"I should tell her about your deplorable manners these days. I'm sure she'd be here within a day to straighten you out," Mathew said trying to go along with Peeta's self-deprecating humor. The words fall flat, and neither brother seemed to find them funny.

Peeta fidgeted beside me. "I'll try and write her soon."

"I'm sure she would appreciate it." Mathew pulled out his pocket watch. "Well, I really do need to go."

"Have a safe trip," Peeta said holding out his hand toward his brother.

The two shook hands, and then Mathew nodded in my direction. "Katniss, it truly was a pleasure meeting you. I'm glad to know that things will be well taken care of here while I am away."

"Goodbye," I said.

As I watched Mathew's care pull away that afternoon, it finally struck me that I'd be living in the main house all alone with Peeta. Of course, I had known that before, but it hadn't really sunk in until then. I had assumed, when I had first taken the job, that the other servants would be living in the s house with us, but Nola, Rue and Thresh occupied a modest house out back. When I had questioned Mathew about it the first day, he had looked at me like I was insane. Apparently, living with the black help was beneath the Mellarks. The thought that we were now essentially going to be on our own was a bit disconcerting. I had never been a prude, but living alone with a man who was no kin to me certainly wasn't an idea I had considered in the past.

"Could you please help me back into my chair?" Peeta asked breaking me from my thoughts. "I think I'd like to go back inside."

Peeta once again asked that he be left alone that day in the upstairs parlor. As much as I wanted to break down the walls that he had erected against the world, I knew that he deserved a certain amount of privacy. I had always been a very independent person, so how could I deprive someone of the space that I myself valued so highly? Still, it rankled when I brought up both lunch and dinner for him only to be asked to leave.

I ate my lunch alone in the dining room, but took my supper in the kitchen with the others. It was the first meal that I had in the Mellark household that felt comfortable. Nola and Rue had a way of making me feel right at home. Even Thresh seemed to tolerate my company better than Peeta did. It was wonderful to be eating off of plain dishes with people who didn't put on airs. I felt almost like I belonged. I wished the meal would just continue on, but after we ate I knew that I needed to see to Peeta.

I was surprised to find him in his bedroom and not the parlor. He was sitting on the edge of the bed with his head pressed in his hands looking utterly miserable. Though I wouldn't comment on it, I knew he had been crying. His tear stained cheeks glistened in the moonlight and made my chest ache.

"You don't have to live alone," I said softly from the doorway.

His head snapped up, but he made no move to wipe away his tears. "But maybe it's easier," he replied without even bothering to turn toward me.

"Easier maybe, but not better for you or anyone else," I told him as I retrieved his pajamas from the drawer.

"If he had come home like this...like me, would you still have loved him?" Peeta asked.

I didn't want to answer. My immediate reaction was to tell him that it was none of his business, but that wasn't the root of my distress. Even as he was marching off to war, I had never told Gale that I loved him. I'd never been able to bring myself to say the words. I did love him, but it was never the all consuming love that I think he wanted from me. I just couldn't say the words. Maybe, I was worse than Miss Cartwright.

"It wouldn't have changed how I felt about him," I answered cryptically.

There was no more talk about love or anything else meaningful that night. Much the same as how we began the day, we silently went about getting him ready for bed. I left the doors between our rooms open again and retired to my room. Once I was alone in my bed, I curled into a tight ball and buried my face in my pillow.


	6. Chapter 6

It was dark—so very dark—and I was frightened, but I followed Gale into the mine. I could see only shadows ahead of me, but his voice echoed against the stone walls of the shaft. "Come and find me, Katniss. I'm waiting," he called.

I moved ahead slowly. My hands reached out for the walls, looking for some kind of guidance but finding none. Then I saw a glimmer of light before me. Running towards the light, I called out, begging Gale not leave me. And then I saw them. Gale stood beside my father. Both men were dressed exactly as I had seen them last: Papa was in his dirty coveralls and Gale was wearing the blue shirt his mother had made him. I opened my mouth to speak, but before I could the walls began to tumble down. I was trapped beneath the crushing rubble. All I could do was scream.

" _Katniss!_ " I heard a voice calling me.  _"Katniss, it's all right."_

I tried to find that voice in the void, but saw nothing.

" _Katniss, wake up!"_

Peeta.

The second I recognized his voice, I woke. My body was drenched in sweat and my chest heaved for the air I had been denied in my nightmare. I sat up shakily and tried to still my heart even as it threatened to beat right out of my ribs. Wiping a hand across my face, I realized that I was crying.

"Katniss, can you hear me?" Peeta called from his bed.

"Yes," I managed to reply. It took everything I had in me to force myself to stand, but I needed to pretend that I was all right. I needed to believe that Peeta hadn't heard my weakness. My body barely obeyed me as I willed it to walk into his room. I put on a brave face. "Did you need anything?" I asked.

The moon was just bright enough that I could see him. Peeta was sitting up straight in bed with his fists balled up full of the sheets. His eyes searched the darkened room for me vainly. "Come here," he commanded softly. If his voice hadn't sounded so sweet, I would have balked at the order, but instead I moved closer to the bed. Without warning, Peeta wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me down on the bed next to him.

"It's alright," Peeta soothed as his hands caressed my arms gently.

I had never been an affectionate person—not even as a small child. It was always one of my deepest regrets that I didn't give Papa a hug before he went to the mines that day. And then with Gale, our touching had been born out of lust, not affection. If it had been almost anyone else, I would have backed away. There was just something about Peeta's touch. His strong steady hands touching me just enough to make me feel better.

"I'm sorry if I woke you," I apologized awkwardly. I bit my lip and stared back toward the open doors between our rooms. "How did you know?"

Peeta shrugged. "I heard you the first night you were here, too, but you didn't hear me when I tried to wake you up. I took a guess that it would happen again."

"I've kept you up two nights," I declared darkly. I was supposed to be taking care of Peeta, and depriving him of sleep was anything but that. "I am so sorry! I'll try to be more considerate in the future."

"I was awake already. Don't worry about it," he said lightly. Peeta's fingertips moved upward along my shoulders, and finally reached my cheeks. Using his sleeve, he wiped away my tears.

"Do you ever have nightmares about the war?" I asked already knowing the answer

He nodded. "And you? You were calling out for your father and for Gale."

"My father died in a mining accident when I was younger," I told him. "And then Gale... I don't even know what happened to him. His brother just told us he'd been killed in France. Sometimes I imagine the most horrible things. I wish I knew what really happened."

Peeta sighed. "It's probably best that you don't know, Katniss. I can't even describe what it was like over there. Please, believe me when I tell you that the less you know about it the better."

"What do you do to get the nightmares to stop?" I asked.

"Very simple," Peeta said wryly. "I don't sleep for more than an hour or two at a time. When I was in the hospital, there was another man in the bed beside me. We made a pact to wake each other whenever the nightmares left us crying out."

In that instant, I made a choice that would alter everything between us. I disentangled myself from Peeta's hands and crawled into the empty side of his bed. When Prim was little, she used to have bad dreams about monsters hiding in the woods. I remembered how she would curl up tighter against me and I would rub her shoulders until she went back to sleep. I couldn't take away any of Peeta's pain. I knew that I couldn't stop the nightmares completely either, but I could rub his shoulders for a while.

"What do you think you are doing?" Peeta demanded, startled at my boldness as I lifted up the covers.

"Don't get any ideas," I snapped. "Roll over. I'll wake you if you start getting restless. I owe you that much at the very least."

"Do you have any idea what would happen to your reputation if anyone ever found out about this?"

I snorted. "I don't have a reputation, Peeta. Do you really think I'd be living alone with you out here if I did?"

Peeta clenched his teeth, but didn't argue. He reluctantly rolled over giving me a view of the impressive width of his shoulders. I began to lightly rub his shoulders a bit, and then began to knead the tense muscles of his neck and back. He let out a small moan of relief as I worked into a particularly large knot.

"You know when I was touching you, for a moment I felt like a whole man again. It didn't matter that I was a cripple, so long as I could make you feel better," he murmured wistfully.

I felt the ghost of a smile touch my lips. It wouldn't do any good to tell him any different, and I knew it. "You're not a lion-man anymore, so I guess we didn't meet at a sideshow."

"We didn't," he agreed. "I was the foolish knight who stormed the castle only to find out that the princess had already slain the dragon."

I frowned. "I think the dragon might still be out there somewhere."

Peeta turned over and wrapped an arm around my shoulder. "Well, then for tonight let's just keep each other safe."

Not quite sure how to react, I made sure that there was still a fair amount of space between us. No matter how much I wanted to curl up against him and pretend that everything was fine, I couldn't. Gale hadn't been dead two weeks, and here I was lying beside another man—even if only for the comfort. I felt like a traitor. Still, the honest part of me was beginning to soften toward Peeta.

"Are you still awake?" I whispered after a few minutes of listening to his steady breath.

"Yes."

I took a deep breath. "Thank you for everything."

"You're welcome," he replied stifling a yawn. "Sweet dreams, fair princess."

"You too," I said with a sad smile.

"I'm already having one. For once I'm actually afraid that I'll wake up. If I wake up, I know you'll be gone," he told me. My whole body stiffened at his words, but I didn't say anything. I couldn't. I simply closed my eyes.

I woke that morning to the sound of birds twittering outside of the window. Immediately, I sucked in a panicked breath as I felt the warmth of another body pressed up against mine. Opening my eyes, I remembered exactly where I was and how I came to be there, but somehow in the night we had closed the gap between us. My head rested on Peeta's chest and his arms were circled around my waist with one of my legs was tossed up over his thighs. I could feel the warmth of his breath on the top of my head. I was too afraid of waking him to move, so I just lay there.

"You're awake," Peeta said huskily a moment later.

"Good morning," I said self-consciously as I scrambled away from him. Now that I knew he was up, I wasn't going to stay cuddled up against him. I had already gone too far.

"Good morning." Peeta smiled as he sat up against the headboard. There was something endearing about the way his blond hair stood up at odd angles. "How did you sleep?"

"Not bad," I lied. I had slept marvelously. In fact, I could barely remember the last time I had slept so soundly. The sun streaming through the window told me I had also slept much longer than I had in quite a while.

"You snore," Peeta told me with a smirk.

"Do not," I grumbled as I got out of bed.

"No, you do," he argued. "Not loudly, but you do snore."

I wasn't going to belabor the point. "How did you sleep?"

"Great, but waking up was better," he teased. There was a sparkle in his blue eyes that I hadn't seen before.

I looked away. I didn't want to feel anything for Peeta. I didn't want like him. It had been much easier when he was a grouch, or when I had just thought of him as one of the arrogant Mellarks. When Peeta was this kind and sweet, it was too dangerous. It threatened my sense who I was and where I came from. And who I should be thinking of. Closing my eyes, I pictured Gale's face in my mind.

"Let's get you up and dressed," I said.

I could pinpoint the exact moment when reality struck Peeta, when he was reminded of his situation, of his dependency once again. His eyes darkened a bit and his smile faltered. I almost hated myself for causing him pain, but I would have hated myself more if I hadn't. Gale didn't deserve to be forgotten. As soon as he was dressed, I left him to go get myself ready.

Alone in my room, I stared at my reflection as I put up my hair. I was a horrible person. How could I have let myself in bed with Peeta like that? How had I let myself feel something more than a sense of duty? Gale had been such a part of my life for so long. I really did love him, and I missed him terribly. My heart wasn't ready to let him go.

Peeta had pushed his chair to the window by the time I came back. He spun himself around to face me as I returned. "Are you wearing your trousers today?" he asked.

"No." I tried to escape the intimacy that had snuck up between us by studying the curtains.

"I'll make you a deal," he told me forcing away his smile. "I'll cooperate with most everything you want as long as you wear your trousers."

"Why do you care what I wear?" I blurted out in annoyance.

He shrugged and raked a hand through his hair sheepishly. "It's how I remember you from the druggist's shop all of those years ago."

"You remember what I looked like back then?" I asked as my heart began to beat wildly. How could he remember that?

"I do," he replied with a slight blush. "You were the most beautiful girl that I had ever seen. How could I not remember?"

My chest tightened, and I struggled to keep my composure. "Fine. I'll go change and then go get Thresh. We're going fishing today after breakfast," I declared before turning on my heel.

All eyes were on me as soon as I opened the kitchen door. Nola and Thresh stared at me like I had grown a second head, and Rue giggled. I grumpily poured myself a cup of coffee. "Could you please help Peeta downstairs again?" I asked Thresh trying to ignore my own discomfort.

"Yes, miss," he answered in his usual fashion.

I leaned back on the counter and watched his retreating form. "Quite the talker," I muttered.

"So what's all this about?" Nola asked eying me curiously.

"All what?"

"You comin' down here dressed like a boy, and actin' like a long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs," she said with a hand on her hip.

"Nothing," I lied.

Nola clucked her tongue, but didn't ask again.

For a moment, I considered just eating breakfast in the kitchen, but then I realized that it was probably best that we stay in the dining room. It wouldn't be fair to put everyone on edge. I was a paid employee no matter how nicely someone put it, just like the rest of them. Peeta was from an entirely different walk of life. One where it simply wasn't done to eat in the kitchen.

I hurried out to meet Peeta just in time to see him situating himself in his chair. He thanked Thresh and reached down for the wheels at his sides. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "You walk louder than Rue does," he told me.

I crossed my arms over my chest. "She doesn't walk, she  _floats_."

He chuckled at that. God, he was too handsome when he smiled. It was like catching glimpses of the man that he was meant to be.

Taking my place behind him, I directed him to where the chair had been moved aside for him at the table. Things like this were easy with Peeta. We both played our parts, and there was no real emotional connection: the kind of interactions I had expected when I came here. I just had to keep telling myself that everything else was just a distraction—one that neither of us needed.

I tried to focus on my plate at breakfast and ignore Peeta, but I couldn't. My eyes were glued to him it seemed. I couldn't help but notice how he at his toast and bacon first with his fingers, and then merely pushed at the eggs. "I can help you if you need it," I tentatively offered, fully expecting an outburst.

"In the hospital, the nurses only helped me for the first couple of days. There were too many men to be feeding us all like babies. I spilled a lot, but I fed myself. It was easier not to care when you knew the man in the bed next to you either couldn't see you or didn't give a damn," he said morosely. He let the fork clatter from his grasp. "What the hell am I doing, Katniss?"

"You should be eating your eggs, and not giving a damn if you spill something," I told him flatly. I pretended that if I just ignored the real problem it would go away, but it wouldn't be that simple.

"I'll never be who I was."

The statement hung in the air like a black cloud lingering just over our heads. I could have lied to him. I could have said that his injuries changed nothing. But he was right. An able-bodied, sighted Peeta would have come to this house in the summer with his wife, Delly. He would have drawn for hours under his tree. He would have entered politics and become someone important. The man before me was broken, but not yet beaten. I just didn't know how to make him see that.

"I can't make this go away, Peeta. I can't wish away the war and all of the horrible things that happened. Believe me, if I could, I would have already," I said. "The only thing I can do is try and make things a little easier, but if you won't try, I certainly won't either."

Peeta buried his face in hands. "And if I try? What then? You won't be here with me forever. Sooner or later you're going to want to marry, to have children. You'll leave, and I'll be here on my own again."

"I'm sure your family would find someone." I dug my fingernails into my palms, trying to let the physical pain override the ache in my heart.

"Do you really think you are so easy to replace?" he asked with a frown. "You really don't

realize how different you are. Katniss, you are the first person to treat me like I am still a man since I was injured."

"I can't make any promises about the future, but I'm here now. Please just accept that," I said looking away.

After breakfast, I went out to the boat house with Thresh to dig out some fishing poles and a basket for our catch. It was really to late in the day for good fishing, but it wasn't really about catching anything. I wanted to see Peeta smile again the way he had under the tree, especially after our conversation at breakfast. Thresh volunteered to go dig up some of bait from near the garden. I would have told him that I didn't mind digging up worms myself, but it felt good to be alone again for a bit.

Peeta's assumption that I would leave him one day bothered me. I hadn't exactly planned to spend the rest of my life working at the Mellark house, but I didn't have any real plans either. Any marital hopes I'd had died along with Gale. I was never one of those girls who huddled up in the corners of classroom talking about how many ruffles she wanted on her wedding gown. I couldn't even picture myself with a husband and children. But what did I want? Did I want to go back to our little cabin in the woods to live out my days? I didn't know what wanted.

I sat down on the dock and hugged my knees to my chest for a minute. I wished that my father was still alive. More than anything I wanted someone I could really talk to about things. Papa had always been the one to listen to me and to offer advice that only he seemed able to give. He had always been the sort of person who seemed to know what other people needed. I wondered what he would have told me to do about Peeta.

Just as I made up my mind to go back in to get him, I saw Peeta pushing himself across the yard with Thresh trailing behind. I met the pair half way across the yard, and a weight felt like it was lifted off of my heart as I saw him smile.

"I was beginning to wonder if you had forgotten about fishing," he told me with a boyish grin.

"You weren't exactly enthusiastic about it earlier," I countered.

Peeta shrugged. "You were right. I can't ask anyone else to try for me if I don't too."

"It goes both ways, you know," I said kneeling in front of him. "I won't give up on you, if you won't."

"Well, then, let's go fishing," he replied.

I helped Peeta out of his chair, and he settled on the edge of the dock alongside me. Our thighs grazed each other as we cast out our lines, making me a bit leery of our physical closeness—even after our night together. There was something about the cover of night that helped mask the truth. Darkness had made me blind to the fact that—like it or not—I was drawn to him, but watching the sun caress the planes and hollows of his face and the wind tussle his hair, I couldn't deny his pull on me.

"Penny for your thoughts," he drawled.

"I was just enjoying the moment is all," I lied. "It really is lovely out here."

"Mathew and I spent a lot of days out here when we were boys," he reminisced.

"Sounds like you enjoyed your time here," I commented.

Peeta smiled and set the rod beside him. He leaned back on his palms letting the full rays of the sun was over his face. "We did. Well, Mathew and I did. Our brother, Luke never took to life away from the city. But for me, it was the one place where I felt like I wasn't always on display. At home there was school and mother's social functions, but not here. Here I could just be a boy."

"That's the first time I have ever heard you talk about your other brother."

"We're not close," he answered stiffly in a tone that implied a whole lot more. I had the distinct impression that the two didn't get along, but it probably wasn't wise to ask, and he immediately changed the subject. "Do you only have one sister?"

"It's just me and Prim," I confirmed with a nod. "She's my whole world. I've been taking care of her since our parents died, so I am probably a bit over protective. I miss her."

Peeta smiled. "So go visit her tomorrow."

"Your mother made it crystal clear that she doesn't want me leaving here," I grumbled.

"So? My mother isn't here, Katniss. I doubt she'll be back here for quite some time, if ever," he said.

I opened my mouth to reply, but suddenly rod in my hand begin to tug. "I got one!" I cried triumphantly as I reeled in a fair-sized catch.

"Figures," he said with a chuckle. "You would be the one to catch the first fish out of this damned lake in over three years."

"I'd like to see you do better," I boldly challenged him.

He cocked a brow. "And if I do?"

"Then you win."

"What about a prize for the winner?" he asked slyly.

Inwardly, I groaned, but I never back down. "What kind of prize?"

He stroked his chin and pretended to think. "If you win, I'll buy you... three new pairs of trousers. But if I win..." he let his voice trail away dramatically.

"And if you win?" I prompted rolling my eyes.

"Well, I think an innocent little kiss would be a wonderful prize."

At first, I was tempted to push him off of the dock, but then I considered it for a moment. My trout was a pretty good size. I doubted he would be able to catch a bigger one. Plus, he was jerking his rod a round a bit too much. I could win this, and never have to kiss him.

"All right," I agreed after a moment. "Whoever catches the biggest fish wins."

We had it all planned out: we would fish for two more hours, and take our catch to the kitchen to be made into our supper. And after much squabbling, we agreed that Nola would serve as an impartial judge. Privately though, I was still quite confident that Peeta couldn't catch anything big enough to win. At least I was until just before we were ready to call it quits. All morning, he hadn't caught anything even big enough to bother keeping, which I had been more than a tad smug about. The two hour mark was looming ever closer, but he had resolutely refused to give in, despite my ribbing.

I could hardly believe my rotten luck as Peeta's line began to bob. From how his rod bent, I knew I was in trouble. My suspicion was confirmed the very second he pulled a beautiful trout from the water, and there was clearly point in holding it up to my formerly large-seeming fish. Peeta had won, plain and simple.

"You've won. Nola doesn't even have to tell me," I told him glumly as he pulled the hook out.

"Wonderful! I'll collect my prize then," he said with a roguish grin as he held out his hand.

I slid my hand into his grasp and my stomach began to tighten. My mind changed from split-second to split-second on whether I wanted to kiss him or not. But one thing was clear, I had to go through with my side of the deal. That was just how things worked. I leaned in close, and Peeta's fingertips touched my jaw. I squeezed my eyes shut so tight that I saw stars. Soft as an angel's feather, his lips brushed my cheek.

I gasp and opened my eyes.

"I told you it would be an innocent kiss," he reminded me huskily.


	7. Chapter 7

Who knew that one so-called "innocent" kiss could throw my mind into complete chaos? I don't think Peeta had any idea what it would do to me, how much it would change my perspective on him. I just wasn't ready for it yet, so I took the only course of action I saw before me: I ran away. Our exchanges throughout the rest of that day were cold and clinical, and when it came time to go to bed, I not only shut the doors, I locked them. Oh, I didn't lock the doors from my side. Peeta wasn't really the threat I feared most. I made sure to slyly turn the lock on his side of the door before leaving his room that night, because I couldn't leave myself the option of crawling back into bed with him. My behavior didn't change much in the morning either. After a silent breakfast, I coolly informed him that I was taking him up on his offer to go visit Prim. Even then, I realized what a coward I was.

I had Thresh drop me off at Haymitch's place. I didn't know what kind of work schedule that Prim had with him, and I also didn't want to be seen chauffeured around town in the Mellark's car. Though it was past the hour that most folks were up and about, I wasn't sure that was the case for Haymitch. Doc's hours were irregular at best. I knocked on the door a couple of times, and then just let myself in.

Right away, I could see that Prim had been hard at work. New curtains hung on the windows replacing ones that were just about stiff with cobwebs. The furniture hadn't just been dusted, it had been polished until it shined. I took hesitant steps through the kitchen, noting the fresh flowers in a vase in the center of the table. I couldn't help but chuckle. When Doc hired me, he told me it was just as well that I wasn't a real woman because he didn't want some girl prancing around leaving wifely little touches everywhere. It was a decree that suited me just fine, but apearantly Prim had other ideas.

After a bit of exploring, I found Haymitch in his office slumped half in, half out of his chair behind the desk. An empty bottle of rotgut whiskey lay on the table and another nearly drained bottle still miraculously hung in his slackened grasp. I pulled the bottle from his hand. The touch wasn't enough to really rouse him, but he did stir.

"Ain't gonna let you go, Mary-girl," he mumbled.

It wasn't anything I hadn't heard before. In fact, I had seen him so drunk that he'd damn near gone crazy once, staggering around the house breaking any furniture that he could reach, screaming at the top of his lungs for a woman who had been dead for years. His delirium had been so severe that he even accused me of trying to keep them apart. I think Haymitch was every bit of an example of why not to give my whole heart away as my mother had been. They both taught me that if you didn't hold back, you would end up losing yourself completely. Love wasn't worth that. Nothing was.

I pulled Doc up into the chair. His gray eyes cracked open and fixed an unfocused glare at me. "You shouldn't be here," he grumbled.

"Think we can get you to that cot over there?" I asked ignoring his question.

"Leave me be if'n we do?"

"Deal," I agreed as I helped him up to his feet. Given his characteristic state of drunkenness, I found myself grateful that he kept a cot in his office. I got him to lie down, and decided to let him sleep it off.

Although discovering Haymitch as I did was no surprise, but finding out that Prim was still asleep when I made it to Mrs. Callahan's house was a definite shock. Mrs. Callahan invited me into her parlor for a cup of tea while I waited.

"Poor dear was just plumb exhausted," she muttered as she poured. "Primrose insisted on going out with Dr. Abernathy to help with the Baker girl's birthing. The babe was all turned about."

I winced instinctively at her words. In hindsight, Doc was much more sober and well-mannered than I would have expected. Even after all these years, he didn't take well to delivering babies. What should have been a joyous experience for a physician was utter hell for him. His post birthing binges were by far his worst.

"How are the mother and child?" I asked.

"From what your sister told me, they should be just fine." Mrs. Callahan sat down and stirred extra sugar into her own tea. "And how is your patient? Such a pitiful soul, we've been praying for him at church on Sundays."

My grasp tightened slightly on the cup in my hand. Pitiful soul? Peeta was disabled, but hardly pitiful. He didn't need Mrs. Callahan or any of the other good Christian town folk sending their sympathy, that was for certain. I took a slow sip of tea and reined in my temper. "Mr. Mellark is recovered nicely," I replied politely.

The older woman clucked her tongue sadly. "Recovered nicely, you say. Even you have to admit that such a horribly crippled man will never be able to have a meaningful life. I don't think those doctors are doing men like that any favors by saving them. They'll be nothing but dependent for the rest of their lives."

"Why? Because that's the lot in life you assume they should take?" I asked icily. The delicate china cup in my hand was shaking. I don't think Mrs. Callahan could have caused me as much damage if she had slapped me.

"Well, no need to get so offended," she huffed.

We finished our refreshments in stony silence.

Prim made her appearance not long after Mrs. Callahan had removed the serving tray. She still looked tired, but her eyes brightened as she spotted me. "Katniss, I can't believe you made it out so soon!" she cried as she wrapped her arms around me.

I hugged her back. The familiarity of having her near me was enough to make me want to cry. I tugged on her single braid teasingly. "You weren't having too much fun without me, were you, Little Duck?" I joked.

"So very much has happened that I barely know where to start," she gushed with a wide smile. "I helped Doc deliver a baby last night. Can you imagine that? I got to hand a darling little girl to her mother for the very first time!"

"I'm sure it was wonderful," I said, chuckling at her enthusiasm.

Prim nodded earnestly. "Oh, it was wonderful. I just wish it hadn't made poor Doc so very sad. He didn't say a word to me until we got back to his place after it was all done. Even then, he just told me to take a couple of days off, but I was still going to check on him this afternoon."

"No," I told her firmly. "You leave that man be when he's like this. If Haymitch starts drinking, you head for the door. Is that clear?"

"You don't have to worry so much. I'm not a little girl anymore," she told me softly. I didn't want to see the new-found independence in Prim's eyes, but it was there. I knew that even in the few days I had been gone, she had already started to grow. The revelation hurt, but it was all part of life.

We didn't linger in Mrs. Callahan's parlor. When I suggested we walk to Sae's Restaurant on Main, Prim eagerly agreed. It was quite a novelty to be able to afford a meal out, and it felt good to be able to repay old kindnesses. Sae had been the only one willing to help feed a half-starved couple of orphans when we were younger. The old Scotswoman had traded bowls of stew and other hardy offerings for help in her garden or a whatever game I was able to bring in. She wasn't too high on the hog to turn down a couple of squirrels for her own table when pickings were slim. In fact, I didn't doubt that with the talent she had with food, Sae could have served groundhog to Mrs. Mellark and convinced the old witch that she was eating a delicacy.

The restaurant itself wasn't anything fancy. Before the mine grew too large, Sae had actually cooked for all of the unmarried miners. The place still bore the mark of its utilitarian roots with rough cut wooden tables and bare walls. There wasn't even a sign out front to advertise the place. Truth was, all the locals were already well-acquainted with Sae—or Greasy Sae, as she was known—and any visitors would only have to follow their noses to her door.

"You haven't said anything about your job," Prim observed as we sat down at a corner table.

"I like it well enough," I told her warily. I didn't quite know how to explain my time with the Mellarks. Luckily the establishment's namesake appeared and saved me from having to say more.

"Been a long spell since I've seen the pair o' Everdeen girls 'pon my door," the old woman cackled with a smile. "Hear tell that it will be even longer afore I get good venison again."

"It's true," I confirmed with a grin. Sae was forever saying that there wasn't a man in these parts that brought in game as regularly as I did. Which was true. I was by far the best shot in the area, even if none of the men wanted to admit it.

Sae shrugged. "Well, at least young Rory seems determined to pick up where you left off. Brought me a fine few rabbits this morn. Got them a bubblin' away in a nice stew. Can I interest you in a bowl?"

I agreed readily, but Prim demurred. Unlike me, my sister had a hard time eating anything she considered cute. After she ordered chicken, Sae was off to get our meals.

"You were going to tell me about your job," Prim prompted as soon as we were alone again.

I groaned inwardly. I had hoped that she would forget about it, but as that was unlikely, I decided to tell her just about everything. Leaving out the parts about spending the night in Peeta's bed and the kiss, I found myself going on and on. My usual reticence melted away with alarming speed. Before I knew, it I was describing in great detail the look on Peeta's face when he realized he'd won our little contest and how very like herself Rue was. Prim listened to it all with rapt attention and a dreamy expression on her face. It didn't quite occur to me why though.

"Your Peeta sounds like a wonderful man," she sighed as she rested her cheek on her palm. The gesture was just naive enough to make me realize exactly what was going on in that blonde head of hers.

"It's not like that," I snapped irritably.

Prim only shook her head still wearing her dreamy smile. "Not now, it isn't."

I didn't have the will to argue about it. Despite her age, Prim was one of the most perceptive people I had ever known. She had this intrinsic ability to see through all of my walls and bypass every single one. I knew better than to lie about my confused feelings for Peeta, so I just shoveled rabbit stew into my mouth.

The spoon stopped halfway to my mouth as something occurred to me. "Have you seen Hazelle or Rory since they heard?" I asked.

"I saw Rory briefly yesterday. He was making deliveries for his mother. I asked how he was doing, but he only told me that he had too much to do to stand around and talk," she told me as worry crept into her pretty blue eyes.

"I should have visited them before I went away," I rued.

Sliding her hand over mine, Prim looked me in the eye. "I think they understand."

After our meal, I decided that we needed to do something to lift our spirits, so I took Prim to the store to pick out some fabric for a new dress. It felt good to be able to buy some thing that Prim wanted rather than needed. Even before Papa died, there hadn't been any money to spoil us kids with. All of our toys had been handmade. I could still remember the little horses and bears that Papa had carved for us in the evenings, and the rag dolls with painted on faces that Mama had made for us. As I saw how Prim's face lit up when she pulled out a roll of pink fabric, my heart swelled with happiness. I even prompted her to buy some lace and enough blue fabric for a second dress. I paid for our selections and waited for the shop owner's wife to cut the yardage. As I stood there, my eyes began to idly scan the jars of penny candy behind the counter. On a whim, I bought a small bag of licorice twists for Prim and myself and bag of lemon drops for the Hawthorne children which Prim volunteered to drop off in the morning.

We walked back to Mrs. Callahan's arm in arm, each chewing on pieces of candy. With no more than a scant block between us and our destination, an unwelcome pair appeared as we passed the livery. Jack Marvel and Cato were undoubtedly the two least liked men in the whole damn town. Cato's brawny, blond form lumbered into our path and his cold eyes slipped over every inch of me and Prim while Marvel rounded us from behind.

"Well, well," Cato drawled. "What do we have here? A couple of young ladies in need of escorts."

Marvel chuckled. I could smell the acrid odor of his unwashed, lanky body long before he weaved around in front of us. "I'd say one lady and one hellcat."

"Don't you have someone else to bother?" I ground out. Prim's fingers gripped my arm so tight it hurt.

"Just came over to see if you were tired of climbing up on top of that cripple. Thought I'd offer to fill ole' Gale's spot to satisfy your womanly cravings," Cato offered with a shrug. "I'm sure Marvel here would love to entertain your sister while she waits."

My fist moved of its own accord and connected against Cato's jaw with such force that I was sure I'd broken my wrist. "You stay the Hll away from us!" I snarled as the big man staggered back.

Cato licked away the blood at his lips. A wave of disgust swept over me as I saw the pure excitement in his eyes. "I'm gonna make you wish you hadn't done that," he promised dangerously as he stepped toward me.

"Don't touch me!" I hissed.

Prim let out a cry as Marvel grabbed hold of her. Panic began to set in. I knew I had a snow ball's chance in Hell of fending of Cato, let alone the two of them. Bravado aside, I wasn't stupid enough to think that a woman my size could take on a man as big as either one of them hand-to-hand and come out the victor. My mind raced as I tried to think.

"Get your God-damned hands off those two," a voice commanded from behind. I felt myself sag with relief as I saw Doc standing just a few feet away with Thresh at his side.

"Well, if it isn't the local drunk and the Mellark's favorite house nigger," Marvel said with a whistle. I couldn't help but be struck by how stupid he was to continue to bait the pair even as he released Prim and stepped away.

"You two don't want no fight with us," Cato spat.

Haymitch let out a low, dangerous laugh. "My friend, I think it's safer to say that you don't want no fight with  _him_ ," he said with a nod toward Thresh.

Until that moment, I hadn't really thought of Thresh as intimidating. His large, silent presence was something I was so accustomed to that I hardly gave him any attention at all. What I saw in his usually stoic features was enough to even have me backing away. Rage now contorted his face into a mask of deadly determination. His dark eyes were locked on Cato and Marvel with a look that said he would love to tear them apart piece-by-piece.

Cato, obviously the wiser of the twosome, shut his mouth and began to walk away—quickly, might I add. With the brains of the operation gone, Marvel was left to put together the reality that he wouldn't be able to take both Haymitch and Thresh on his own successfully before following suit.

I pulled Prim into my arms and let her shake against me. "Thank you," I whispered over her shoulder to Haymitch and Thresh.

Thresh merely nodded.

"Let's get back to my house," Haymitch said ignoring my gratitude. "I want to have a look at that hand of yours."

Once back at Haymitch's, he sent Prim to make a pot of coffee while he examined my hand. I winced at his less than soft-handed ministrations, but held my silence. I wasn't used to being rescued by men—or by anyone. It made me even more determined to keep what pride I still had. After he announced that I hadn't broken anything, Doc fell haphazardly into his chair.

"You have to be about the dumbest female I have ever met," he murmured. I knew he was about to launch into a tirade, and I braced myself for it. I owed him at leas that much. "Those two have mean streaks as long as the damned Mississippi and twice as wide. You ever think about keeping your mouth shut and walking right on by?"

"They didn't give us much choice," I said keeping my voice level.

Haymitch snorted and pulled a flask from his desk. "You are damned lucky that your friend here knocked on my door to see if you were back yet."

"We are lucky," I agreed. The stinging that those few little words caused my pride was nothing compared to what might have happened. I turned to Thresh who stood awkwardly at the door. "I'm sorry for the trouble."

"You didn't cause it," Thresh replied. It was officially the longest sentence I had heard from him up to that point.

"You're only saying that because you don't know her well enough yet," Haymitch cut in with a bout of dark laughter. I wrinkled my nose at the comment. Gratitude or no, it was becoming increasingly harder and harder to hold my peace.

Prim returned carrying a tray with four mugs of coffee. "I really don't know how to thank you," she said as she handed the first one to Thresh. Her innocent eyes locked on to him as he shyly accepted the beverage. "I don't even know you and you helped save us."

"No need to thank me, Miss Everdeen. Just doin' what was right is all," he replied bashfully. I chuckled to myself as I took my own mug. Two full sentences in a row!

"I think we should get back before it's too terribly late," I said finally.

Thresh nodded. "We can drop Miss Everdeen off on our way."

After seeing Prim safely to Mrs. Callahan's front door, I leaned back into the cushioned seat. The day had taken a toll on me, and I was more than a little exhausted. It had been such a nice day. I just wished that it had ended differently.

"Please, don't tell Peeta about this," I begged Thresh as we pulled away.

"I won't say a thing, Miss Katniss," he assured me.

The irony of that struck me as funny, and I began to laugh. Thresh eyed me from the window. "I'm sorry," I wheezed, wiping tears from my eyes. "Coming from you, that is about the funnies thing I have heard all day!" I continued to chuckle all the way home.


	8. Chapter 8

The night after my altercation with Cato and Marvel, I left both doors open again. I hadn't shared any details about the incident with Peeta, but I still think he suspected something had happened to upset me. All evening he seemed to be trying to lighten the mood for me by telling me stories about the various antics he and Mathew pulled as boys, stories I had been hoping to eventually hear. For the most part, it worked. I had mostly relaxed before bedtime, but it seemed that no sooner had I shut my eyes than I was reliving the event yet again.

I woke up on my own. I sat up abruptly, and pulled my knees to my chest.  _When did I become such a coward?_  I wondered. Never before had I relied on someone else to make my fears go away. I may have talked with Gale about things that were bugging me, but I never looked to him for physical comfort to help me cope with them. Yet, here I was, sitting in my room staring at the ghostly outline of the door to Peeta's room, craving his strong touch to make me feel safe again. The idea terrified me almost as much as the nightmare of Cato and Marvel had. In the end, I lied to myself: I convinced myself that I was only going to Peeta's room to make sure that he actually was sleeping.

I crept into his room guided only by the moonlight. Peeta had tossed aside the covers and slept with his limbs spread out across the bed. His expression was far from peaceful. Instantly, I felt guilty. How petty and small my own nightmares were in comparison! I couldn't even imagine the terrible things that surely haunted his slumber. I could imagine that it was horrible and grotesque, but I hadn't experienced war the way he had. As his nurse and as his friend, I should have checked on him out of true concern for him, but instead I had merely used him. I reached out to smooth a wayward lock of hair from Peeta's forehead.

In an instant, Peeta sat up straight with a strangled cry. His arms flailed out in defense against some unseen enemy, and I jumped back barely evading a blow. Blind eyes stared wildly into the darkened room.

"Peeta, it's all right," I said softly from my safe distance. "It's just me...Katniss."

"Katniss," he managed to say between ragged breaths. He leaned his head against the headboard and covered his face with his hands. "Oh, God, I'm so sorry. Did I hurt you?"

"No," I assured him. I sat down on the bed with my side pressed against him.

"Come to chase off the dragon?" he joked uneasily.

I pressed my palm against his cheek, relishing the slightly rough texture of his evening beard. "Weren't you the one who said we were safer together?" I whispered.

"Sometimes I think you are the most dangerous person I know," he quipped as he patted the spot beside him on the bed. "I don't think I'll go back to sleep for a while, but I can hold you a bit if that will help you sleep."

"Then let's keep each other company until we can sleep." I took my spot beside him, and curled up on my side facing him.

"You didn't say much about your visit with your sister," he commented as he nearly mirrored my own pose. Our noses were so close they nearly brushed, but I didn't move away.

"We had a wonderful time. We ate lunch and did a bit of shopping. Nothing too exciting," I answered. An omission wasn't really a lie, I reasoned. "What did you do today?"

"Nothing much. Rue helped me write a letter to Aunt Effie. That girl actually has quite a good head on her shoulders, by the way," he commented. "I wasn't very optimistic when she offered to help me, but I think her spelling actually may be better than mine."

"She loves to read," I told him with a smile.

Peeta nodded against his pillow. "I told her to help herself to any of the books downstairs. I don't really think she'd be too interested in the ones in my old room, but she's free to read those, too, if she wants."

I hadn't really given much thought to the sleeping arrangements. It did stand to reason that he had been put in this room due to the connection it shared to mine. I wondered which room had been his before, and what it looked like. Would there be any little pieces of his old life left there? Maybe something he would still be able to enjoy. I didn't voice my thoughts outright. I'd see to it on my own, and bring it up later.

"You liked to read?" I asked instead.

"I did," he replied. "Before I left the hospital, they had just begun teaching me some things to help me be more independent. Someone showed me this kind of writing called Braille. There are these little raised dots that form letters. I hadn't actually started to learn yet, but it's nice to know it's out there. Who knows, maybe someday, I'll be able to read again."

"Why didn't you learn while you were there?"

He let out a snort of disgust. "My mother thought it was degrading for a Mellark to be left in amongst the common rabble. She convinced my father to pull enough strings to convince my doctors that I would be better off at home with my family's private physician tending to me. After I got home, it seemed that every time I tried to help myself or wanted to find a way to do something on my own, there was someone telling me it was useless, to just let someone else do it for me."

"And your whole family just went along with it?" I demanded feeling a slow boil of rage begin beneath my skin.

"Don't get upset about it. I think they meant well," he said obviously trying to convince himself just as much as he was me—if not more.

Deciding not to push the matter to far, I sighed. "What kinds of things were they teaching you at the hospital?"

"Basic things: getting in and out of the chair on my own, dressing myself, feeding myself without wearing most of it, starting to walk. Just basics," he replied casually.

"Walking? You mean with wooden legs? You never said anything about that." I sat up and frowned uselessly at him for all I was worth.

He shrugged. "It doesn't matter much, does it? Even at the hospital, they pretty much told me that I will never be able to do it on my own because I can't see where I'm stepping. I'll need someone to help make sure that I don't stumble and a cane to support me. They didn't waste too much time on it once it became clear that I'm not getting my sight back. There were other men who could eventually walk on their own to worry about."

"Sometimes, you are just an idiot," I mumbled as I lay back down angrily.

That was huge. How could Peeta not tell me that he could at least walk a little? And he had said it with such flatness, like it was nothing at all. It made me wonder just how convinced his family had him that his rehabilitation meant nothing. Why was it that people seemed to assume that it was all or nothing, he was either one hundred percent normal again or he would be one hundred percent dependent. I had only known him a short time, and I could see how very much small strides mattered to him.

"Don't be mad at me, please," he whispered, reaching out for my shoulder. His fingertips trailed along the lace trimmed sleeve of my nightgown, and seemed to burn through the thin fabric right against my skin.

"I'm not mad," I snapped. "Just irritated."

He let out a soft chuckle. "I know I shouldn't be happy that I've upset you, but I don't think you realize how nice it is to know that you care."

"Can I ask you something personal?" I hedged lightly.

"All right."

"Do you miss your fiance at all?"

Peeta was quiet for a long time. His fingers idly began to swirl along the flesh of my arm in tiny figure-eights. "I suppose that I should," he said eventually. "Delly and I had been friends for as long as I can remember, but I really didn't love her in that way. It's wrong, and I know that I should have loved her more, but I didn't. Looking back, I think I only asked her to marry me because I was scared that if I died that no one would care. I don't blame her for leaving me."

"Then I guess she really didn't love you either," I murmured. I couldn't help but be glad that he didn't love her. It was a hypocritical notion, and I knew it.

"What was Gale like?"

"Why do you want to know?" I asked defensively.

"I just want to get an idea of what the man who you love so much was like," he answered with a shrug. "Don't answer if it upsets you."

Did it upset me? Yes, it did, but not for the reason that Peeta probably thought. Thinking of Gale did still hurt, but I was beginning to come to the realization that it didn't hurt as much as it should have. I truly loved Gale, but I had never let down a single defense to let him in. I wasn't sure that, even if he had lived that we ever would have gotten passed that. After Gale left, I had missed him, but I hadn't spent my days longing for his return. I had accepted that he was away, and then moved on about my business. There was always something going on that demanded my attention at the moment, from Prim to our finances—or lack there of—to my hunting. Gale just didn't enter my mind like he should have.

To be completely honest, I hadn't actually thought much about him at all in the days before I found out he was gone. My own selfishness had blinded me to him until it was too late. Now, I didn't have any right to not think about him. Still, I wasn't ready to talk about him with Peeta.

"I don't want to talk about Gale," I decided aloud.

"Fair enough," he agreed pulling his hand away. "We should both try to get some sleep."

Immediately, I missed his touch. How was it possible to want to hold someone so close, yet want to push them so far away at the same time? I wasn't even ready to consider the implications of it.

We awoke in a mass of tangled limbs again. Somewhere in the night, our bodies had gravitated toward one another. His arms circled around me felt like such a natural pose that I barely balked at the improperness of it. As my mind became fully aware, I began to wiggle my foot in an attempt to banish the pins and needles from my toes. I frowned as I noticed something strange. My knee was nearly on top of his, but only as my leg moved did I really think of the absence of his own limbs. I realize that I had stopped thinking about what was missing when it came to Peeta.

"Sometimes, I can almost still feel them," he murmured as if he were reading my mind.

Like a child caught doing something she ought not be doing, I remove my leg from his quickly and looked away. "Sorry," I said guiltily. "I wasn't trying to make you uncomfortable."

"You weren't."

We spent the majority of the morning dancing on eggshells around each other. I think Peeta requested to take a bath just so that he had a good reason to get away from me for a while. I didn't mind, though. It gave me enough time to go walk in the woods a bit on my own.

I left the path behind not long after entering the treeline. Keeping careful track of where I was, I walked along humming a tune Papa had taught me as a little girl. Though I had no need to hunt for food any longer, I couldn't help but be aware of just how much game there probably was on the Mellarks' property. I ached to go get my gun and spend a morning hunting. I wondered what Peeta would say if I asked him about it sometime. Despite my reluctance to leave, I decided that I shouldn't stay out too long.

As I emerged from the woods, I spotted Thresh and Rue in the yard in front of the the smaller house. Rue was filling a bird feeder with seed while Thresh hung a tiny little birdhouse. Even from the distance, I could see how he was smiling as she chatted away. It was like all of a sudden something clicked into place inside of my head, and I could see why Thresh had reacted to Prim as he had. I didn't get to watch them for much longer before Rue spotted me.

"Good morning, Katniss," she called out cheerily. "Come and see what Thresh made for the little birds!"

Thresh nodded in my general direction as I approached, back to his usual self.

I took a moment to admire the workmanship he'd put into the tiny house. "Very nice. I'm sure they'll appreciate it."

"I bet we'll have all kinds of birds coming to see us now. I bet if they knew who had made it for them, those little fellows would fly right up to Thresh's window to thank him," she said with a giggle. I swear that if Thresh hadn't been so dark skinned that he probably would have turned a bright pink right down to his toes.

"Is Peeta already downstairs?" I asked trying not to laugh.

"Yes, miss," he answered as he collected his tools and turned for the shed.

Watching him leave, Rue frowned. "I didn't mean to embarrass him," she said sadly. "Especially, not after he's been so sweet to me."

"Oh?" I intoned curiously.

"I've been a little homesick, and Thresh sat up with me most of last night to talk. I must have seemed so childish to him," she said looking away.

"Well, he is a good bit older than you are. I'm sure he understands," I assured her.

Rue gave me a strange look. "Just how old do you think he is?"

I shrugged. "Twenty-three, or so. A little older than me."

"He's just turned eighteen a few weeks ago," she corrected. "People think he's older because he's so big and so quiet."

"I guess so," I said thoughtfully.

Rue excused herself to go help Nola in the kitchen, and I stared up at the birdhouse for a moment longer. It wasn't very ornate, but it had obviously been carefully crafted. I wondered if Rue realized that Thresh was in love with her. Somehow, I doubted it.

By the time I made it back inside, Peeta was sitting at the dining room table waiting for me. His hair was combed back and still slightly damp from his bath. I noted several cuts on his cheeks and jaw from what I assumed was his first solo attempt at shaving, but didn't comment on them. He turned my way and smiled as I pulled out a my chair.

"I was about to send a search party. I thought you might have gotten lost," he teased.

"I never get lost," I told him defiantly.

He chuckled. "Mathew and I did once. I was eight, and we had decided to go exploring. It took Nola's husband, Jeremiah, almost six hours to find us. Mother whipped us both that day so good that we barely were able to sit down for supper."

"Papa used to take me out in the woods with him all of the time. He taught me how to hunt and what plants and berries are good to eat," I told him. "I'm certainly no city girl."

"And I'm certainly no sportsman. Before joining the army, I'd never even held a gun." He paused for a moment and frowned. "I really can't say that I am too sorry that I never will again, either."

Before I could reply, Rue came in carrying our breakfast. It was still strange to me to be served in the mornings, especially by someone I was coming to consider a friend. Peeta didn't seem to think much of it, but unlike his brother, he at least thanked Rue as she set the plate before him.

Sliding his fingers across the table, he reached for his coffee cup. "I was wondering if we could try something," he said uneasily.

"Like what?"

"Well, the way they did it in the hospital at meal times. The nurse who brought it for me would tell me where things were on the try by what 'time' they were located at. You know, like a clock," he explained.

The simple description of what was located where on his plate seemed to make a big difference. Though he ended up with some of his egg yolk on his shirt, it was nice to see him actually eat his entire meal. I wasn't sure exactly what had changed in Peeta that day, but breakfast was the first time that I had seen him actively try to be more independent. It was really wonderful to see in contrast to the sullen man I had met only days before.

After breakfast, he surprised me once more. We were sitting on the porch, hoping for a breeze to cut through the humid heat that was already building. Peeta had rolled up his sleeves, and I had undone the top two buttons of my blouse in a vain attempt to stay even a bit cooler.

"Your father didn't happen to also teach you to swim, did he?" he asked thoughtfully

"He did," I confirmed.

"If you're up for it, I was thinking maybe we could go for a dip."

At first, I was hesitant to agree. I had an image of myself trying desperately to keep Peeta from drowning, but then I thought about it for a moment. There really wasn't any reason why he wouldn't still be able to swim. And then another image came to mind: one of Peeta with his bare chest floating in the lake. An unwanted wave of desire hit me. Swimming was a terrible idea!

"All right," I answered pushing aside my traitorous thoughts.

He grinned like a little boy who had just been given a peppermint stick. "Wonderful. I took a chance and had Rue lay out one of Aunt Effie's swimming costumes for you."

"Aunt Effie's swimming costume?"

"Did you think I expected you to swim nude?" he asked with his eyes sparkling mischievously. "If you'd prefer it, I wouldn't mind at all. I could even be persuaded to join you."

I smacked him upside the head as I stalked off. "Cad," I huffed

"What? I was only thinking of your comfort," he said wryly.

However, when I saw what I supposed to wear for swimming, I think I regretted not agreeing to go naked. It was a God-awful, blue creation with pink bows on the shoulders and a short ruffled skirt about the waist that did little more than hide the ugly, square-cut shorts. Who wore frills to swim in? With a groan, I shed my clothing and changed into the borrowed swimsuit. To my dismay, it was even uglier on. I looked like a caricature of a shepherdess. I wondered what kind of woman actually  _wanted_  to wear the damned thing. Worst of all, I could only imagine that some fancy lady had paid good money for this.

Peeta was waiting for me when I finally had the guts to let myself be seen again. His own swim attire was much more functional than my own. It was a simple solid blue body suit that bared his muscular arms and shoulders wonderfully. However I noticed that he had draped a towel over his lap and didn't look any happier about what he was wearing than I did. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

"Maybe this was a bad idea," he muttered as I began to push him toward the door.

"Why? At least you don't have to wear pink bows," I joked.

He barely smiled at my attempt at humor. "My stumps aren't exactly pleasant to look at. I should have thought of that before. Maybe, I can hold the towel around me while I get out of the chair to spare you the sight."

I had never considered that I hadn't actually seen what was left of his legs. Peeta was always very quick to grab his clothes and change in the bathroom in the mornings. I hadn't really thought anything of it until that very moment, but I guessed that he was more self-conscious of his injuries than he actually was concerned with propriety.

"It's probably not as bad as you think," I told him. "After all, you can't really see it yourself. I'm sure you're much to hard on yourself."

His snort of laughter was so bitter that it hurt. "You have no idea. My left leg was blown completely off, and the doctors took the right one when it turned gangrenous. Do you think that it all healed up nice and clean? Here, have a look for yourself," he spat as he pulled aside the towel to reveal his wounds.

I didn't want to look. It was much easier to think of him as he was now and not to think about just how horrific his injuries must have been when they first happened, but I found myself staring at the mangled flesh left behind. Peeta had been right: it wasn't a pretty sight. Puckered, red scar tissue stretched out around the oddly shaped appendages making me wince instinctively. Even the the right side that had been surgically removed was far from "nice and clean." In fact, the only thing that I could think was that he had endured a kind of pain that I would never really understand. Still, it wasn't revulsion that I felt when I looked at him, nor was it pity. I reached out at touched my fingertips to the bared skin on his knee, and he immediately stiffened.

"It's just a part of you, Peeta. Under the scars, it's all flesh and bone like any other part of you," I said defiantly.

"How do you do that?" he asked with a sad smile.

"Do what?"

"Say exactly what I need to hear."

I shrugged. "Maybe you just need to hear the truth."

We made our way to the dock without any further discussion. I had meant to ask him just how he planned to manage this, but I figured that he'd tell me what I needed to know when we got down to it. I stopped his chair a couple of feet from the end of the dock, and held the it steady while he swung himself to the ground.

"Mathew and I used to race down from the back porch every year. Whoever jumped in first got to the biggest piece of pie that evening after dinner," he said as he pulled himself to the edge.

"Who usually won?" I asked.

"I did, of course. And I'm going to win this year, too."

Before I realized that I had been challenged, Peeta pushed himself off of the dock with a huge splash. I stood on the edge peering down at the water for what felt like eternity. Just as panic began to set in, he surfaced with a huge smile.

"Feels amazing," he told me as he began floating on his back.

"You idiot!" I cried out.

He just laughed at my outrage. "Get in, Katniss. The water feels wonderful, and I think you'll be a little less angry with me when you aren't standing there baking in the sun."

If it hadn't been such a hot day, I think I would have stood there just to spite him. I climbed down the ladder and into the cool water with a sigh of relief. My feet touched the slimy silt bottom of the lake, and I didn't mind. I was too happy to finally be out of the heat to care about much else as I began to swim toward Peeta who was still floating on his back.

"You aren't mad enough at me to let me hit the dock are you?" he asked.

"I just might," I told him jokingly.

He smiled and took a few powerful strokes away from me. The ease with which he moved through the water wasn't lost on me. I realized that he had a grace and agility here that would forever be lost to him on land. His arms moved with a practiced precision pulling him farther out that I would have dared to go, but I wasn't about to impede his new found freedom. Eventually he turned back my way, and moved to his back once more.

"How close am I?"

"Ten feet to the dock and about five or so away from me," I supplied.

He followed the direction of my voice and reached out a hand that I instinctively took. Steadying himself by holding my shoulders, he gave me a sheepish grin. "I just can't tread water the way I used to," he admitted.

"Other than that, you don't seem to be having any problem at all," I reminded him gently.

"I don't think I would ever get out if I didn't have to."

I paused and stared at the sun glistening off of his water beads that trailed down his face. "You're not a foolish knight, either," I announced after a moment.

"Oh? Then what am I now?"

"A merman," I answered easily.

"And are you my very own mermaid?" he asked with a seductive laugh.

My cheeks burned with embarrassment. "I don't think so."

He let tugged at my braid gently. "Or perhaps a pirate on the high seas? I'll swim beside your ship waiting for my chance to pull you down to the deep with me."

"Maybe I am a shark who likes to eat mer-people for lunch," I suggested splashing him with annoyance.

"No, you are my very own pirate princess. You're not nearly as hard as you'd like me to believe," he told me becoming slightly more serious.

I pulled out of his grasp. "Don't be so sure."

"I am sure," he countered undeterred. "You'd have been long gone like the others if you were. If I didn't know any better, I might even say that you like it here with me.

"We should get out," I told him avoiding the topic. "I'm starting to prune up."

He shook his head. "One of these days, you are going to actually start talking to me. I guess I'll have to be the patient one until then."

We soon found that getting Peeta out of the water wasn't nearly as easy as it had been for him to get in. It took a few tries, but he managed to pull himself up the ladder with only his arms and onto his stomach. However, once he was back in his chair, he looked rather satisfied with his accomplishment.

I didn't think I would be able to accept the lack of mobility so easily if it were me, but he seemed to be able to see the brighter side of the situation. I remembered Peeta telling me that I didn't know how different I was, and I wondered if the converse was true. Did he realize just how different he was? Most people would have been complaining or have even given up when faced with some of the challenges that he was, but there he was drying off and looking quite pleased with his day. I think that's why I pushed him so much. He had it in him to make it beyond all of this. It wasn't lip-service when I said that he didn't have to be dependent and helpless for the rest of his life. I wished for just one moment that he could take a look through my eyes at the man before me.

"I wish we could do this every day," he sighed as we headed back to the house.

"Weather permitting, I don't see why we can't," I said.

"I suppose that we should probably send away for a bathing suit without bows," he teased.

"It would be nice."

He chuckled. "I actually like the bright pink. It's easier to see."

"Pick another color. I despise pink," I told him flatly.

"Orange, then," he replied.

"Orange? You want me to dress like a pumpkin?" I asked incredulously.

"I don't think of pumpkins when I think of orange. I think of sunsets," he corrected me. "I should buy you a whole closet full of clothes in orange and red and gold."

"And maybe you should just keep me in the hearth," I quipped.

Peeta shrugged. "I could use a little fire in my life."


	9. Chapter 9

"Weather permitting" turned into an oddly prophetic statement. I watched the black clouds rolling in across the sky that had been so very blue only the day before, and sighed with annoyance. Peeta had been snoring gently when I peeked through the door that morning, allowing me to slip out of the house for a quick walk. The scent of an on-coming rain filled the predawn air, and I knew to hurry up. I had just stepped onto the porch when the heavens opened up with an earth shaking thunder clap that heralded in buckets of rain.

"Just wonderful," I muttered to myself as I headed back inside.

I started a pot of coffee in the silent kitchen before going to wake Peeta. Nola, Thresh, and Rue had all gone to church leaving me and Peeta to our own devices for the morning, and I already missed having other people in the house. I was becoming increasingly uneasy around him for reasons that I couldn't continue to blind myself to. I wanted a buffer between us, because I was starting to feel things that were just plain wrong. Carrying a tray with coffee and muffins, I mounted the stairs with growing anxiety.

Peeta was awake when I pushed open the door. "Good morning," he said with his eyes focusing in on me. Despite his near blindness, he never failed to look as though he were staring right into my eyes.

"Good morning," I returned as I set the tray on the table. "Nola left us blueberry muffins for breakfast, and I made us some coffee."

"Thanks. The coffee smells wonderful," he said with a smile.

"Coffee is one of the few things I can make that people can actually stomach," I told him, pouring him a cup.

Peeta chuckled. "Well, then I can make you an offer that if you accept, you will never have to worry about cooking again."

"What's the offer?" I asked frowning.

"Marry me," he replied with an impish grin. "I'm rich enough to keep a full staff, and luckily for you, I am also unattached."

My cheeks flamed, and I had to fight back the urge to pour the whole pot of coffee into his lap. Instead, a plopped a muffin onto a plate, shoving it roughly into his ribs. "Not funny," I grumbled.

"I'm sorry," he apologized earnestly. "I didn't mean to offend you. I know it's too soon to make jokes like that after what you've been through."

"I'd rather not talk about it."

Peeta nodded, and slid himself over to make a spot for me on the edge of the bed. "Breakfast in bed is only a luxury if someone shares it with you," he told me.

"Fine," I agreed as I sat down, ignoring the implications of his invitation.

"Judging from the sounds of rain, I don't think we'll be swimming today, will we?" he murmured with disappointment written across his face.

Truthfully, I didn't mind that we couldn't go swimming. I wasn't too thrilled with the idea of putting on that ridiculous swimming costume again, and swimming had already led my mind to places I would rather it not go. The last thing I needed was to see Peeta's muscular arms and radiant smile as he moved through the water again. I didn't want to imagine those arms around me. I knew it was selfish to be glad that he was denied his freedom, but it didn't matter to me just then.

"There's always tomorrow," I shrugged.

"And today will be quite dull," he lamented with a heavy sigh.

"Why don't you get dressed, and we'll go sit in the parlor. I could read to you for a bit," I suggested.

Peeta nodded without much enthusiasm, but then he suddenly cocked his head to the side as an idea struck him. "Would you mind if I tried something first?"

"All right," I agreed tentatively. "What were you thinking?"

"I'll tell you after I get dressed," he said cryptically.

Immediately, I began to worry about what exactly he wanted to try. If it were something easy, I reasoned, he would have told me outright. Less than ten minutes later, my fears were confirmed as he parked his chair at the top of the stairs. I instantly angled myself in front of him on the top stair, and frowned.

"Suicide isn't something I'll let you try on my watch," I snapped.

Peeta shook his head. "I'm not going to kill myself."

"Oh? Then what the Hell do you think you are doing?"

"Going downstairs," he answered lightly as he began to slide himself out of his wheelchair. "I can make it if I go one step at time. I am pretty sure I can even pull myself back up them."

I rolled my eyes. "This is ridiculous! Thresh will be back in a couple of hours, and he can take you down."

"No, what is ridiculous is being carried around like an infant. It may not be pretty, but I know I can do this," he argued. "Weren't you the one who said you'd try if I did? I need to do this. You treat me like a man, Katniss. Please, let me at least pretend that I can still be one."

"There's no pretending to it," I told him as I stepped aside. "Just be careful."

The trip down the stairs was far less harrowing than I imagined it to be. He slid himself down one step at a time, like he'd said he would, and I stayed far enough back to let him go on his own. The trip was ungainly—I'm sure some would even say undignified—but my heart welled up with admiration with each stair. When he reached the bottom, I simply slid his second chair to the edge of the steps and let him pull himself up in it.

Peeta spun his chair in a circle, almost like a victory dance of sorts. "And the merman conquers his mortal enemy: the stairs!" he announced proudly.

I laughed. "I thought fishermen were your mortal enemy," I teased.

"Only in water. On land, stairs are far more daunting," he said wryly.

We ended up sitting on the back porch listening to the rain falling on the awning. I offered again to read to him, but Peeta seemed content just to be outside. He sat with his eyes closed smiling every so often at things that escaped my notice. I wondered what almost imperceptible things he found joy in that I simply ignored. I knew that shutting my eyes would be foolish. Temporarily taking away my sight didn't give me his perspective. I had to go about things in a more direct manner.

"What are you smiling at?" I asked finally.

Peeta shrugged. "The scent of wet grass. The way the wind feels on my skin. The sound of the rain echoing on the front steps. Just little things."

"Like your other senses are compensating?"

"Not really. It's all been there this whole time, but I was distracted. I remember when I first was shipped back to a hospital in the States, there was this nurse who wore lavender perfume. Amongst all of the wretched smells, I could smell that tiny hint of lavender whenever she was around, and it made me smile. Then I came home, and things seemed so hopeless... I guess I just needed to keep looking for things to make me happy," he said as he reached out his hand toward me. "Let me show you."

I slid my fingers gingerly into his. "Should I close my eyes?"

"No, keep them open. I want you to look out toward the lake, but only focus on one thing at time," he told me.

"All right. The water is such a dark blue that it's almost black. It's quite choppy, and sometimes a bit of sunlight gets through and shimmers on the surface. I think it looks like the water is dancing." It wasn't until I was speaking that I realized the beauty in it. I wasn't seeing a scenic view before me, only the lake.

"And there you have it."

I stared down at our entwined fingers. "I still don't see why I needed to hold your hand for that."

"You didn't," he confessed. "It was just another reason for me to smile."

"It's a shame there aren't any other girls here for you to flirt with," I said letting my annoyance surface.

"You think I would flirt with just any girl?" He sounded oddly hurt.

Before I could reply, I heard a car pulling up the drive. Relief settled into my chest as I stood up. "I'm going to go see how church was," I muttered, making my retreat.

I opened the front door to see Doc's car arriving, not the Mellark's. Prim emerged from the automobile as soon as it came to a halt still dressed in her Sunday best escorted by a somewhat less-haggard-than-usual Haymitch. As they mounted the front steps, he shot me a dark look over my sister's shoulder, and I knew that this wasn't just a social visit on his end.

"Don't look too happy to see me, sweetheart," he murmured with a slight edge to his words.

Unaware of any sort discord, Prim beamed up at me. "I hope that Mr. Mellark doesn't mind, but I couldn't help but tag along when Doc told me that he planned to pay a call."

"I'm sure he won't mind," I said as I hugged my sister. "In fact, I think he'll be happy to have someone here to talk to other than me."

"Know I would be," Haymitch remarked.

"I'll show you to the parlor, and then get Peeta," I said leading the way.

Prim's eyes were wide as we walked through the house to the back salon. I knew that—like myself—she had never before seen anything approaching the scale of the Mellark house . Her eyes darted from one end of the room to the next, and I made a mental note to show her around sometime."Such a pretty house," she murmured as she sat on the sofa. Leave it to Prim to see the beauty in the stuffy place, I thought as I left the room.

"Who's here?" Peeta asked nervously the very second I returned.

"Dr. Abernathy and my sister, Primrose," I told him. "The doctor had something pressing he wanted to talk to me about, and Prim rode along with him. Is that all right?"

"Fine," he lied. "I'll just wait out here until you're through. Take as long as you'd like."He shifted in his chair, and began biting his lower lip. His tension practically radiated, and it didn't take a genius to figure out why.

"I think my sister wants to meet you. You'll like Prim," I assured him.

He swallowed hard. "Oh, I am sure I would like her. It's just..." His voice trailed off and he shook his head. "I am sure that someone like me would only make her uncomfortable."

"Peeta, you need to stop worrying what other people think and live your life. Anyone who says differently should go straight to the Devil," I declared sternly.

"You would say that," he chuckled.

"Of course, I would and so should you."

"You really don't understand what it's like to live a life where you always have to maintain appearances. I don't know how not to worry about what people think of me," he complained.

I rolled my eyes and started pushing his chair toward the parlor. "Well, try."

I stopped pushing his wheelchair just before the parlor door. He could make it the rest of the way on his own. Doc, who had seen Peeta when he'd first come to town, didn't seem to pay much attention to Peeta's disability. On the other hand, Prim's eyes immediately fell to where his legs should have been. It was just for a split second, but I saw pity in their blue depths. She put on a smile quickly enough that I doubt anyone else would have noticed; I had to force myself to ignore it.

"Peeta, I'd like you to meet my sister, Primrose," I said.

Prim moved in front of him and touched the back of his hand lightly. "It's lovely to meet you, Mr. Mellark. I've heard such wonderful things about you from Katniss," she told him as she shook his hand.

"She's being too kind," he replied with a smile. "I've been a bear."

"Well, then you two ought to get along quite nicely," she said with a giggle.

"And you already know Dr. Abernathy," I chimed in.

Doc followed Prim's lead and touched Peeta's hand before shaking it firmly. "Good to see you under better circumstances, boy," he said in a tone that only Haymitch could achieve.

Peeta's cheeks colored a bit. "I do have to apologize for the way I behaved before."

"Wasn't the first time I've been called that, and it sure won't be the last," Doc told him dismissively. "But I'll say all's forgiven if you'd allow me to borrow Katniss for a moment or two."

"By all means," Peeta replied.

I wasn't sure that I liked how easily the pair made plans for me, nor that I was being used as a figurative bargaining chip, but I went along with it. I knew that Haymitch had something to say that wasn't fit for Prim's ears. The rain had paused for the moment, and we walked along the path that led to the lake in silence. Doc's edginess didn't bode well.

"What is it?" I demanded when I couldn't take it anymore.

"I walked into town yesterday to pick up a few things and saw Cato watching Prim," he told me.

"Just watching?"

"Trust me, if you'd have seen how he was lookin' at her, you'd understand." He pulled a flask from his vest pocket, and took a quick drink. "I took her to church this morning."

I sucked in a breath. Pastor Undersee had come to visit Doc once while I was working there to tell him that it wasn't right for such a respected member of the community not to attend service. The following stream of curses had the preacher just about running out the door, and even left me a little shocked. I knew that Haymitch didn't exactly have warm fuzzy feelings about God, so if he was concerned enough to escort Prim to church, then I was worried, too.

"Thank you," I murmured with a mouth that had gone bone dry.

"Just keep an eye out when you're in town. I don't really think it's Prim he wants," he said.

When we returned to the parlor, Prim and Peeta were both laughing. My heart warmed at the sound. I took a seat beside Prim on the sofa, and listened to the pair chatting amiably.

"Peeta was just telling me about his first trip to Paris," Prim told me.

"Oh?" I inquired only really half listening. There was a gnawing feeling in the pit of my stomach that I just couldn't shake.

"Paris must have been beautiful," Prim sighed.

Peeta nodded. "It was."

"Who knows?" Haymitch cut in dryly. "Maybe it will still be standing when this is all over."

Prim's enthusiasm melted away. "Such a horrible thing to say!"

"But true, nonetheless," Peeta agreed sadly.

"It will be just fine. You'll see," my sister insisted staunchly. "Someday, I will find a way to go to Paris just to prove you two wrong!"

I stared in open amazement at the woman beside me. Prim was a lady through and through. She didn't raise her voice or argue, and sometimes I forgot just how stubborn she could be underneath her gentle exterior. It reminded me who was really the stronger sister. It made me proud.

"I can only hope to be wrong," Peeta said with a smile. "I'll make a deal with you: if Paris is still standing at the end of all of this madness, I'll send you there myself. In exchange, I want you to go to the Louvre and report back to me about all of the new exhibits that I've missed."

I watched Prim's eyes widen with excitement at the possibility. In that moment, I wasn't sure if I wanted to slap him or kiss him. Peeta Mellark was the most presumptuous man on Earth, and the most thoughtful. As I opened my mouth to tell him just how ridiculous it was to send Prim to Paris alone, my thoughts were interrupted by a slight grumble coming from Peeta's stomach.

"Doc, did you happen to see how far behind Thresh and the others were when they left church?" I asked with a slight gnawing at my gut.

Haymitch frowned and mumbled a few curses under his breath. "They were parked down by the livery, and we didn't pass them on the way out. Still, we've been here over an hour. Maybe I should go back to see if they had any car trouble," he suggested giving me a knowing look.

"Couldn't hurt," I said trying to keep my tone light.

Doc's departure seemed to leave a lull in the room even though he hadn't really said too much before. We were all aware that things were off kilter. Peeta's lips formed a tight line, but he said nothing. I could tell that he knew we were keeping something from him. He was blind, but certainly not unaware. Perhaps, I should have told him about Cato and Marvel. I knew that he would probably be angry when he found out, yet I still considered it my problem and my business. The last thing I needed was for him to be involving himself in my affairs.

"Prim, why don't we go make some sandwiches for lunch. We can save Nola some trouble when she gets back," I suggested, hoping to speak to her alone.

"I'd be happy to help," Peeta offered slyly. "I do hate being left out."

I clenched my fists and tried not to let my temper boil over. "I'd never dream to exclude you," I drawled.

"Really? You mean to tell me that you haven't been doing just that?" he asked sarcastically.

Prim's gaze flitted between the two of us, and her mouth formed a silent "oh." She cleared her throat derailing my impending reply. "I think fixing lunch together sounds fun," she announced.

The three of us ended up in the kitchen together with only Prim breaking the awkward silence. My sister had the blessed ability to chatter on freely and happily no matter what the circumstances it seemed. I, on the other hand, was glaring daggers across the room at my "charge." As far as I was concerned, I didn't have anything to say to him. How dare he think that he had any right to get involved in my life! I angrily began slicing a loaf of bread as Prim set a carving board with a large hunk of ham in front of Peeta.

"Think you can slice that without losing any fingers?" I challenged ignoring my sister's glare.

"I'll manage. And if I can't, at least I'm not to proud too admit there's a problem," he bit back.

"Why do you think there's a problem?" I demanded. My whole body shook with anger and annoyance.

"Because I'm not an idiot, Katniss," he barked.

"Oh, for the love of Pete!" Prim sighed, removing the apron she'd tied over her dress. "I'm not going to stand here and listen to you two bicker like little children."

I set aside my knife, and watched Prim's retreating form. "I just don't get why you care."

"You don't get why I care?" Peeta sputtered. His cheeks were turning bright red with rage, and I instantly knew that I had been a fool. "I can't believe that you are honestly that selfish. Whatever trouble you've gotten into, you've managed to get people that I care very much about involved in as well."

"Your  _servants_ ," I spat out. "When was the last time you even talked to any of them?"

"You don't know what you're talking about! There is a very good reason that I've kept my distance," he told me in a dangerously low tone.

"I've got my reasons, too," I cried weakly. My reasons were getting thinner by the second, but I held tight to them like a drowning man to a life preserver.

"Try me!"

"I can handle my own problems, Peeta. I'm not..." I stopped myself from saying the words, but the harm had already been done, and my stomach lurched with regret.

"You're not what? Crippled like me?" he asked. He gave a dark chuckle and shook his head. "Katniss, you are  _exactly_  like me. You're so hacked up inside that you don't even realize what you're missing, and those pieces aren't coming back. All you can do is learn to function as you are, asking for help when you need it. And my God, do you need help! Because someday, if you're not careful, you are the one who is going to end up locked alone in a room. Not me."

My throat was too tight for speech as the truth of Peeta's words settled on my chest like a boulder. For all of the supposed help I had provided him, I had never once considered asking for help myself. All this time, I had expected him to swallow his pride—why? Because like everyone else I assumed he should. And yet, here we were. The blind man had been the only one to really see through me. I was helping Peeta because it made me feel a Hell of a lot less vulnerable than I really was. I reeled back as though I had taken a hit, and my fight or flight instinct kicked in.

I ran out of the house like a whipped dog. The rain mixed with my tears leaving me almost as blind as Peeta. I headed for the woods with no real regard for my safety or dignity. I needed to get away, and to escape the crushing shame I felt. My lungs burned with the effort as forced myself off the beaten path at a full sprint. I no longer cared that I didn't know the lay of the land: away was the only direction that mattered. I ran until my boot caught on a tree root sending me hurtling to the ground. Lying face down in the mud, I finally felt like I was able to breathe again. I sat up to inspect the damage I had done to myself. My palms were covered in grime filled scrapes, and my knee was sporting a gash that had cut through my trousers. No more than I deserved. I plopped myself down alongside the tree's trunk and listened to the rain hitting the leaves. I was lost, and I knew it, but the idea wasn't all that distressing. I knew that given some time, I would eventually find my way back. I just lacked the will to do so yet.

What a mess I had made of things! I wondered if Peeta would ever want to talk to me again. I had truly hurt him, but didn't know how to make amends. Aside from Prim, I didn't let people get close to me. I had always felt like I had too much riding on my shoulders to take chances—not even with Gale. I looked out for me and mine with only a fleeting courtesy to those around me. Asking for help or support would only erase the lines that I had drawn in the sand. It would open me up to depending on people, and then what would happen when they left? I'd be like Mama—not strong enough to stand on my own. I wanted be strong, but Peeta was making it so damn hard.

After a long while, I pulled myself back to my feet and began to amble back in the direction from which I came. Though I wasn't familiar with this part of the woods, I knew I'd come from the northeast side of the woods and hadn't crossed any streams or paths. Finding my way home gave me something else to think about other than my predicament. It was something completely within my realm of comfort...something that felt real.

"KATNISS!" a voice hollered from the distance.

"I'm coming!" I called back, moving quickly toward the speaker.

"What the Hell kind of damn fool are you?" Haymitch scolded me as I appeared back on the path. His gray eyes appraised every inch of my mud-covered, disheveled state.

"I needed some air," I replied defiantly with my head held high.

He snorted. "Peeta wanted me to go into town and get volunteers to come look for you. That boy cares about you a sight more than he should."

"I know he does," I murmured looking away.

"I told him about what happened the other day. You could've just come clean and told him the truth," he grumbled as he took off his coat.

"It'll be ruined," I protested as he wrapped the garment around my shoulders.

"I don't give a rat's ass about the coat."

We began walking back to the house without any further discussion about my little outburst. Doc and I weren't the heart-to-heart kind. Though, I suspected that his reasons for his solitude weren't so different from mine.

"What happened with the others?" I asked as soon as the house was in sight and I spotted the second car.

"Flat tire," he answered. "Someone cut it straight through, and I don't think we have to wonder too hard about who did it."

"I suppose not," I agreed.

"I told Peeta about the whole thing. At this point, I didn't think it was a good thing to lie," he said.

I winced thinking back to how Peeta had been angry about Thresh and the others being involved. "He fire me yet?"

Haymitch smirked. "You know as well as I do that it ain't gonna come to that."

Everyone was in the kitchen when we got back. Nola and Rue were seated at one end of the table with Prim and Peeta at the other. Thresh, as always, hung back from the group, leaning on the counter. All eyes were on me except Peeta's.

"Oh, Katniss!" Prim cried. "Look at you! You're a mess."

"Just thought I would take a nice evening stroll," I muttered sheepishly.

That evening, after Prim and Doc were gone, I found myself alone with Peeta in the parlor again while dinner was being made. Aside from Prim, it seemed that no one really wanted to talk to me. Thresh had slipped out of the house without even eating one of our ham sandwiches, and Nola and Rue were oddly stoic. And as for Peeta, he hadn't said a solitary word to me since I'd run off. I had followed him into the parlor, hoping for the good tongue-lashing I'd earned, but got nothing. He barely seemed to register my presence. Those eyes of his that never seemed to leave me were staring off into space.

"I'm sorry," I said when I couldn't stand it anymore.

Peeta took a deep breath and shook his head. "No, I am. I pushed too hard."

"You were right: I should have trusted you."

"But you don't," he pointed out resignedly. "You don't trust me."

"I don't trust anyone," I amended. "But if I did, it would be you."

"I suppose that I should be flattered," he sighed. "Especially after the horrible things I've said to you. Is there any way I can make it up to you?"

I couldn't help but shake my head. Typical Peeta. "Well, I don't suppose you will be willing to forgive my not wearing trousers for a while? I ripped mine when I fell."

He smiled at me, looking in my direction for the first time. "I can do one better. Upstairs in the last room to the left, my old room, there is a trunk with some clothes from when I was a boy. Maybe you can find a pair that will work."

"Sounds wonderful." I breathed a sigh of relief. I hadn't been looking forward to being trapped in dresses once again. I bounded up the steps with such enthusiasm that I nearly tripped over my skirt.

I had nearly forgotten about my desire to see Peeta's old room, but as soon as I cracked open the door, my yearning to explore got the best of me. As expected, it was much tinier than the grand suites we occupied. There was a single bed that was made—like someone was still expected to sleep there—and a desk where Peeta's paint brushes sat in Mason jar as though he would be using them again soon. I took in the Pirates pennant on the wall and the baseball glove sitting on the bedside table, as well. They were all little pieces of the life that Peeta had led before. I wanted to rummage around a bit, but it felt like an intrusion of his privacy, so instead I opened the trunk.

Most of the clothes inside looked far too big for me, but I found a couple of pairs of serviceable trousers. I had begun to fold the unwanted garments to put them back when I noticed a black, leather-bound book in the bottom of the trunk. Curiosity got the better of me, and I sat on the bed and started flipping through the pages.

The whole book was filled with drawings. Peeta had chronicled his world in elegant, detailed sketches. I recognized a few of the faces and places within its pages, but most were foreign to me. One thing was clear from the very first page, though: Peeta was amazingly talented. I could see how he'd felt about every one of his subjects by how he'd captured them. From his mother's stern features to the gentle beauty of the lake, I didn't have to wonder at his perspective. But then I got to the last page in the book and gasped.

It was me.


	10. Chapter 10

Things had changed in the house. It seemed that everyone had their own demons baring down on them, and no one felt much like talking about it. Thresh hadn't spent more than an hour in the main house in nearly a week. Whatever task brought him inside was completed quickly and silently before he went back out, either to the yard or the barn. His behavior was definitely bothering Rue, but I could tell that there was something more to the situation I couldn't put my finger on. However, the worst of the three was Nola. There was a coldness to her following the flat incident tire that seemed to be mostly directed toward me. On the surface, she was pleasant enough—even joking a time or two—but I could see in her eyes that something had happened to change how she saw me. Deep down, I knew that she blamed me for the trouble with Cato and Marvel. Still, the biggest change within the house was between Peeta and me.

I hadn't told him about the drawing I'd found. Truth be told, I was torn. Part of me wanted to ask him about it, but I was still afraid of what he'd say. Once things were truly out in the open, there would be no going back. So, I tried to go on like nothing had happened at all.

We formed a routine that didn't to vary much. After breakfast, we would sit on the porch for a while until the heat of the day set in. Then we would swim for a couple of hours or so. Usually, I would tire of it first and sit on the dock watching him. We took lunch under the shade of the willow, and then I would read to him for a bit. The evenings were spent in the downstairs parlor listening to music from the expensive phonograph. Days went by like this—pleasant enough, but certainly lacking the budding closeness I had come to expect. For the first time in my life, I found it was possible to miss someone who was right there beside me.

The mood remained stagnant until the next Sunday when Peeta and I were alone once more. We were sitting on the porch in companionable silence when he turned to me with a strange look on his face. "If you wanted to go to church with them, you could have. I would have managed for a few hours on my own," he told me softly.

"I'm not really the church kind," I replied. I left out that I thought it was better for everyone if I just stayed out of town for a while.

He frowned. "But you don't really seem to be too happy to be here, either."

"I am happy to be here. It's just. . ." My voice trailed off as the words escaped me. It was just what? I couldn't really complete the thought even in my own mind.

"That's right: it's just. . ." he mimicked with a heavy sigh.

"What do you want from me?" I demanded roughly.

"Your trust. Is that too much to ask for?"

I stared off at the lake hoping that if I didn't look at him then lying would be easier. "I trust you."

Peeta pushed his chair toward the edge of the porch and gripped the railing until his knuckles turned white. "Then answer one question for me; one question with an honest answer."

"All right," I agreed nervously.

"What was Gale like?"

The air left my lungs as soon as he spoke. It wasn't what I was expecting, and it certainly wasn't something I wanted to answer. "I don't see the point of talking about him, and I don't know why you care," I snapped.

"Because I want to know what kind of man was able to win your love and trust," he answered bitterly.

My love and trust. Gale had one, but not the other—not completely—but I couldn't admit that aloud. I summoned up an image of his handsome face in my mind, and tried to decide where to begin. How do you put a person into words that encompass them? How do you sum up years of friendship? Worst of all, how do you look at someone who is beginning to have feelings for you and talk about another man? I bit my lip.

"Gale was very strong," I began uneasily. "He took care of his family after his father died in the same cave-in that killed mine. He was honorable and brave. Stubborn, I guess, too."

"I'll bet he was handsome, too," Peeta murmured.

I nodded. "He was, but not like you or your brother. He was darker, more rugged. All of the girls in town adored him."

"I'm sorry he didn't come back."

"Me too," I said sadly.

"Want to hear something very selfish?" he asked. "I used to sit and think of all the men who deserved to come home and never will, and how I would trade my life for theirs. Recently though, I don't wish that. Even hearing you talk about him, I can't make myself wish that he was here instead of me."

"You shouldn't even think like that. No amount of wishing can bring back the dead, no matter what you offer up for trade," I told him flatly. I didn't say that I wouldn't trade his life for Gale, but I didn't say that I would either. To be honest, I wasn't sure what I would do given the chance.

Peeta pushed his wheels back and forth idly, as though he desperately wanted to get up and start pacing. I could see the tension and frustration bubbling just bellow the surface waiting to blow sooner or later, and I knew that I was the reason. Part of me wanted to comfort him, to soothe whatever pain I'd caused, but another part of me knew that I couldn't get that close without letting him in. The more I depended on Peeta, the less I trusted myself. Still, God help me, I couldn't just walk away.

Finally, I took a deep breath, releasing some of the turmoil in my chest. "Peeta, I'm glad you're here, too."

"Are you?" He rolled over to where I stood and held out his hand. As my fingers entwined with his, I felt a shiver slide down my body. He looked up at me, his gaze narrowly missing my own, and smiled. "You've made me realize that I still have a life to live—even if it isn't a life that I'd planned for. I wish I could show you the same. I know that I could, if you'd let me."

"I can't give up my independence," I said breathlessly.

He shook his head. "You don't have to. If you want to hunt or go out into the woods or...well, anything really, I won't stop you. All I ask is that you come back to me. Could you do that?"

"I don't know. I can't promise you anything."

My knees felt weak from bending over as long as I had, and I felt myself begin to trembled Before I could stand up or fall down, a strong arm circled my waist and pulled me onto his lap. My initial reaction was to stand up and get as far away as possible, but his grip was surprisingly strong. I gave up the fight, and let myself settle in. He was so warm and solid beneath me, and I could feel his heart beating against my side. It almost felt like this was were I was meant to be.

"I've been wanting to do that for a while now," he murmured. "And this, too"

I didn't have time to question what else he wanted to do. His hands moved to my face and began to delicately trace each of my features. Slowly, he reached to my hair. Making short work of the ribbon that held it in place, he unraveled my braid, and ran his fingers through my long dark tresses. He lowered his face toward the strands he still held, taking a deep breath.

"Is that your way of telling me that I need a bath?" I teased nervously. I both wanted him to stop and feared that he would at the same time.

"Not in the least." He gave me a wolfish grin. "Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?"

"I'm not beautiful," I argued, denying how my heart was beating faster.

"So beautiful that even a blind man can see it."

I became more frantic with each word he said. I needed to run, but couldn't will myself to do it. "I'm not who you think I am."

"Let me show you who I think you are," he said softly.

His lips met mine so perfectly that all of my will to leave melted away. Peeta didn't kiss like he was claiming me. He kissed like he was giving me everything. His lips were soft and gentle, moving only as far as I allowed. I became impatient and deepened the kiss. Even as my mind balked at the move, my body wanted more. He ended the kiss before I could let myself go too far. And as soon as the contact was broken, so was the spell.

I launched myself off of him with such force that I tumbled into the railing. I couldn't believe that I had allowed him to kiss me. The implications that I had actually been the one to slide my tongue into his mouth were far too much for me to handle. Instead of enjoying the afterglow, I let rage take over. "Just what did you think you were doing?" I demanded.

"Kissing you," he answered simply. "And you can be as angry with me as you want. I don't regret it, and something tells me, that you really don't either."

"Don't tell me what I think or feel," I snapped.

"If you could just be honest with yourself..."

"Honest?" I interrupted. "You have no room to talk about being honest. You never told me that you had seen me more than just that one time! I saw the drawing you did of me, and it was obviously not from when I was at the druggist. You watched me making my deliveries, didn't you?"

Peeta's cheeks turned bright red. "I didn't follow you, if that's what you thought. I'd go into town every so often, and sometimes I would get lucky and catch a glimpse of you. And of course, I drew you! There are probably a dozen or so more of you in my sketchbooks at home. But I'm sure you also noticed when you were snooping through my things that I drew just about everything. I'd already told you that I thought you were the prettiest girl that I'd ever seen. I just didn't think the drawings mattered any more."

"Why wouldn't they matter?"

"Just forget it," he said angrily. "I'm trying to forget they ever existed."

It dawned on me that part of the reason Peeta hadn't told me about the sketches had absolutely nothing to do with me. I had done nothing but rub salt into a very raw wound. I pulled a rocking chair beside him and sat down, not daring to reach over and touch him. "I'm sorry."

He shrugged. "You've made your point. We'll just forget it all."

"I don't think I can," I whispered.

"You let me in, only to force me out in the next breath. I think it's obvious that you don't want what I have to offer," he said trying to sound blasé.

Tears welled up in my eyes and threatened to fall, but I didn't bother to brush them away. "I loved Gale, but I didn't trust him," I admitted. "He was my best friend. I never really thought of him as more than that until... Well, it was just a natural fact at that point. I took him for granted. I let him march off to war and never even said the words to him, can you believe it? I just let him go to his death without giving him what he deserved. I'm not who you think I am. I'm not the faithful sweetheart to a lost soldier."

"I think that if he didn't know how you felt. . .that he would never have stayed around as long as he did," Peeta told me softly. He reached out for my hand, and squeezed my fingers gently. "If I'm right, Gale stayed with you because he was willing to take what you had to give him. Maybe that wouldn't have been enough forever, or maybe you would have been ready to give him your heart when he came back. Either way, you can't turn back the clock. Let the dead rest, Katniss. Let yourself live."

I wiped my damp cheeks with my sleeve and took a deep breath. "If you want to swim, we should probably do it now," I said effectively ending the discussion. I had already said more than I had intended to, and I wasn't ready for more.

The others returned home from church just after Peeta and I came back to the house after our swim. I was sitting on the front porch braiding my hair as they pulled up the drive. I didn't want to admit it, but I had been out there with the express purpose of waiting to see if they made it home all right. I let out a sigh of relief when they all got out of the car smiling and laughing.

"Oh, Miss Katniss, you're darn near shriveled still! That boy got you in the lake again?" Nola asked as she mounted the stairs. Whatever iciness had been between us had seemingly melted away, and I couldn't have been happier.

"I told you, he's half fish," I said in mock lament. "How was church?"

"Wonderful," Rue chimed in. "Reverend Undersee read from the Book of Luke. You really should come next Sunday. Why, Dr. Abernathy was even there again today. He sat with Miss Primrose, but he stopped to say hello on his way out."

I shook my head. "I don't think so, Rue. I wouldn't want to leave Peeta all alone," I lied.

"I wouldn't mind going with you," Peeta said from behind me. I hadn't heard his approach and nearly fell down the steps in surprise at the sound of his voice.

"I wouldn't want to force you," I murmured as I recovered my composure. I glared daggers at him, but it was useless.

"Oh, I'd hate to stand in the way of your soul's salvation." He cleared his throat to affect an air of stuffiness. "Miss Everdeen, it would be an honor to escort you to church," he declared with mischief in his eyes as he gave a mock bow.

Nola chuckled. "There's the Mr. Peeta that I been missin' so much."

Peeta smiled at her sadly. "I'm sorry it took me so long to find my way back, Nola. I've missed you, too."

The older woman had tears in here eyes as she leaned over and kissed his forehead. It wasn't the kind of thing you would expect to see between a servant and employer; it was the kind of moment that passed between mother and son. I hadn't noticed until that moment how deep the bond between them went. I had always assumed that her interest in the youngest Mellark was merely bellow stairs gossip, but I realized I was wrong.

"I best go get you some lunch," she said affectionately. "I know that girl of yours don't know which end of a spoon to stir with in that kitchen."

"I'll come help. You can show me all of your secrets," I suggested trying to keep a straight face.

Nola cast her eyes heavenward. "Now, Lord Jesus, I know I just done come from your house, and prayed like a good woman should. What did I do to deserve such trouble?"

Everyone laughed at that, and I didn't mind being the butt of the joke. A cloud had been lifted from the house. I followed Nola to the kitchen with Rue while Thresh took the car back to the garage. The three of us worked and joked together as we put together a light cold lunch. It felt good to be welcomed back into the fold. When Rue stepped out of the room to go set the table, I found Nola giving me a meaningful look.

"What?" I asked looking up from the watermelon I had been slicing.

"I owe you an apology," she said, wiping her hands on her apron. "I was blaming you for things that weren't nothing to do with you. Ain't your fault that some folks got nothing in their hearts but hate and violence."

"Thresh told you."

Nola nodded. "Boys can't keep nothing from their mamas."

My eyes widened. "He's your son?"

"Not by birth. I raised him from the time he was eight, after his daddy died. His mama was was my sister," she explained. She set aside her work, her dark eyes boring into mine. "Now, I am only gonna tell you about this once. It ain't something I like talking about. You hear?"

"Yes, ma'am," I replied. Anxiety began to build in my gut. I knew that whatever she had to tell me wasn't going to be pleasant.

"His daddy, Harvest was a preacher. Best sermons I have ever heard, let me tell you. Man had a way with words. He could light a fire so deep in a body's heart that it was like God Himself was speaking through him. Back in '08, he took on a parish down in Georgia. Jeremiah and I tried talking him out of it, but there just weren't no doing to it. Said he had to go where he was led. It all went well enough for the first few months. He'd write to us about all of the works he'd done, and all the work he still had to do. Harvest started teaching folks to read in the church. He wanted folks to be able to read the Word for themselves, wanted them to have a way to better themselves."

"Something tells me that not everyone thought that was a good idea," I said shakily.

Nola shook her head. "They burned that church to the ground. The church goers found Harvest swinging from a tree out back of his house. Thresh was hiding up in a closet. He used to be a joyful boy. Chatted on like a magpie in a tree. After that , he was a different child."

I covered my mouth with my hand trying to smoother the sickness I felt rising. "I didn't know."

"No, baby, you didn't. You couldn't have known," she agreed. "Them two in town, they been making trouble since we came back. Thresh won't take Rue to town anymore. Marvel tried to corner her out back of the store."

"I'd love to take a horsewhip to those two," I growled.

Nola chuckled darkly. "I keep praying they get struck by lightning, but the good Lord don't seem to want to grant that. Maybe He thinks he's already done enough for me giving me a boy to love."

I heard Peeta's voice from beyond the door, and smiled. "But you didn't just raise one boy, did you?"

"Suppose I had a thing or two to do with raising those Mellark boys, too. I was hired in the nursery just after Mr. Peeta was born. Those little ones gave me quite a time." Nola's smile was positively beaming. "And then when they went off to school, Mr. Matthew and Mr. Peeta used to come spend time down in the kitchen with me."

"But not Luke?"

Nola made a disgruntled snort. "He just like his mama, that one."

Now, I understood why Peeta had been so worried when they hadn't come back from church on time. I wondered why there seemed to be such a disconnect between them, but it was undeniable that they both still cared. Suddenly, I was filled with a million questions I wanted to ask about what it was like to raise the Mellark sons. I wanted to know what they were like as children, what made Peeta the man he was today.

"Peeta is your favorite," I declared confidently. I didn't need to ask.

"He is," she confirmed. "Boy got a heart big enough bridge the ocean."

"He does."

The older woman smirked at me knowingly. "And I think he got a spot all ready for you when you get up the courage to take it."

I was still blushing when Rue and Peeta joined us a moment later. Both were laughing and smiling conspiratorially. With Rue pushing, Peeta was carrying a basket and blanket on his lap. "We're having a picnic," he announced.

"I'll just get it ready for you and Miss Katniss," Nola said, taking the basket from him.

"No, not just me and Katniss. All of us. The whole household is going to have a picnic," Peeta clarified.

I can still feel a lovely peace come over me when I think of that day. We spread the blanket out beneath the willow tree. Peeta got out of his chair and sat beside me looking as though he didn't have a single care in the world. Even Thresh managed to relax, as he lounged on very edge of the cloth. Nola, Rue, and I fixed plates and poured lemonade for the men while we laughed and teased them for letting us do all of the work. The food tasted far better among friends and nature than it would have in the formal dining room with just me and Peeta. It was perhaps the most enjoyable meal I'd had since Papa died. After the meal, Thresh immediately began to pack the left overs and plates, but none of us were ready to go back yet. It took a healthy amount of coaxing, but eventually Rue convinced him to sit for a while longer.

Wonder of wonders, Rue even got Thresh to agree to read from Thoreau's  _Walden._ He nervously cleared his throat and shifted around a bit before beginning, but once he started reading, I didn't want him to stop. I found myself unconsciously leaning against Peeta as we listened. Thresh's deep, steady voice brought to life Thoreau's words as he began:

" _I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived. I did not wish to live what was not life, living is so dear; nor did I wish to practice resignation, unless it was quite necessary."_

We passed the book around for almost an hour before Rue declared that she wanted to go pick some berries for a cobbler. Seeming much bolder than usual, Thresh offered his arm, and said that he would like to go with her. Nola chuckled, glancing first at the pair walking away and then at me and Peeta. "Seems a good time to go get some work done, since I'll have the kitchen to myself," she said. I didn't miss the wink she gave me on her way back to the house.

Peeta laid back on the spread-out blanket with his arms behind his head. "We should do this every Sunday," he said with a lazy smile. "We should invite Prim and the doctor next week."

"Sounds like fun."

I hugged my knees to my chest and stared down at him, taking in every detail. There was something about him that made me feel alive. It was a startling realization that I needed him in my life. I needed someone to keep me grounded, to contain my rage, but he needed me, too. He had told me that he needed fire in his life, and that's what I was. I gave him the push he needed to dig deeper. I should have been afraid of the idea, but I wasn't. For once in my life, I was eerily okay with having someone so close.

"Penny for your thoughts," Peeta murmured softly.

"They aren't worth that much."

He laughed. "To me, they are worth a hundred dollars. They're a rare and valuable commodity."

"You rich folks sure do overpay for things," I quipped. "I was just enjoying the day."

"I knew you would." He grinned proudly, and rolled to his side. "Come here."

"Why?" I asked warily. I certainly wasn't ready for another kiss—even though I secretly craved one.

"I can almost see you in the bright light," he explained.

"Oh?" I leaned closer.

"Being so dark, I can see your hair and your eyebrows. I can almost make out your lips, too. It's nice." His eyes twinkled merrily. "It makes me want to kiss you."

I tried to back away, but his hand caught my shoulder. He sighed. "I won't though. Just lie down with me for a while. There's a nice breeze, and it is a day of rest, after all."

"A day of rest," I muttered as I did as he asked.

Breathing in the summer air and the masculine scent of him, I felt myself relax. I wondered if Peeta knew that it was becoming harder and harder to resist him. Even I wasn't made of stone. His charm worked its way into me like nothing else ever had. Somehow, I knew that he was very aware of it.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thank you to Chelzie for her beta work on this chapter.

The crate arrived on Thursday. Thresh brought it back along with the mail that morning, and I must say I was more than a bit curious about its contents. It wasn't overly large, but big enough to catch my attention. At first, I had assumed that it came from Matthew in Pittsburgh. but The slip on the top, though, listed it as coming from Mr. G. Mellark, Philadelphia. I was dying to know what was inside. Peeta, however, was quite all right with letting it sit on the porch untouched while we finished lunch. He even seemed to be eating his sandwich slower than usual, as I scarfed mine down with gusto. His lack of interest only seemed to increase my own.

"Aren't you even a little curious?" I asked with a heavy sigh.

His lips quirked upward wryly. "What makes you think I don't already know?"

"So what is it?"

"It's hotter than Hades out there. I can't wait to swim today," he said, ignoring my question.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" I grumbled.

"I promise that I will tell you all about it after our swim," Peeta agreed almost reluctantly. In fact, it seemed that he wasn't just putting it off to annoy me. There was something in that crate that he didn't want to share. Of course, that made me all the more intrigued by it.

Our swim seemed interminable. Usually, Peeta made small talk and joked as he swam. But that day, he barely said two words as he took powerful strokes. I dangled my feet in the water and watched him as he tested the limits of how far out he could swim. He had certainly come a long way in the weeks that I had known him. Every day, it seemed that his arms got just a bit stronger, so he pushed himself a bit farther. Even Rue had commented that if Peeta didn't stop soon, his arms would be busting out of his sleeves. As I watched those arms moving, I recalled how they felt around me just under a week ago.

Peeta and I hadn't talked about the kiss since the picnic. We had both developed an unspoken resolve to let things proceed as they would. Though nothing had changed outwardly, there were subtle things that did. A couple of days after the picnic, I found myself back in his bed. Nothing happened then that hadn't already; but this time, there was an odd sense of awareness. I couldn't help but notice how very enticing he felt against me and how very masculine he smelled. I felt the stirrings of feelings that I had thought died along with Gale.

"Katniss, are you still there?" Peeta called to me from the water.

I blinked as I slowly came back to reality from my thoughts. "Oh, sorry. I was just thinking," I said sheepishly. "You're about fifteen feet from the dock."

In what seemed like no time, he was up and out of the water, sitting beside me. His silence settled over me almost like a shroud, and I wasn't quite sure why he seemed so somber. I studied his expression, hoping to glean some idea of what was going on inside that head of his but got none. Peeta's usually open features might as well have been carved from stone.

"You don't have to tell me what's in the crate if you don't want to," I hedged lightly.

He shrugged. "I should have told you when I sent for the damn things, but I didn't want to raise your hopes."

"My hopes?"

"I sent for my prosthesis—you know, my artificial legs," he explained dismally.

"That's wonderful. Why are you so upset about it?" I asked.

"Because I've started wondering if it isn't easier just to admit that I will never walk on my own again than to go on with the farce of pretending." He let out a heavy sigh. "I shouldn't complain, I know. I've learned recently that I am more capable than I had ever thought possible after my injuries, but I want more. Some days, I wake up, and it about kills me that I have to wait for you to bring my chair over before I can even get out of bed. I can't simply go where I want – even with the wheelchair in the house. I'm always afraid of running into something or someone that I can only barely see. I spend my life needing help for things no man should need help with. I can't draw or read to relieve stress. I still feel like a prisoner."

My stomach clenched tighter with every word he said because I knew it was true. There would always be limits for him, and things would never be as simple. He had come so very far, but that didn't mean that things were perfect. I had seen the signs of his frustration and ignored them. Nothing I could do would make Peeta whole. Nothing I could say would make him stop wishing for just an ounce of the freedom he'd lost. It was too hard to face that defeat.

"Peeta, I'm so..."

"Don't you dare tell me you're sorry," he snapped, interrupting me. "I couldn't bear it."

"Just tell me what you need from me. I'll do what I can," I told him firmly.

"I need you to go to town and see if Haymitch is available for the afternoon," he said after a long pause.

I frowned. That certainly wasn't anything I had expected. "Are you feeling sick?"

"No." He shrugged. "Not sick in any way he can cure, at least. I just don't want you to be the one beside me while I am falling on my ass as I try to learn to walk again like some toddler."

"All right," I agreed, forcing away the sting of rejection I felt. I wasn't going to tell him that I was dying inside from wanting to see him take those first steps. He needed to do this his way. I had to respect that.

Over the next few days, I spent much less time at the house than before. We ate breakfast together and swam. Then Doc would come and I would disappear to the forest or have Thresh take me to town to spend time with Prim. If someone would have told me a month before that I would have rather stayed at the house with Peeta than go rambling through the wilderness, I would have laughed. Somehow, I had become so entwined with Peeta and the rest of the household that I felt oddly adrift outside of it.

And then there was Prim. The changes in my sister were almost as great as the ones Peeta had undergone. Prim was still sweet, innocent Prim, but there were changes just below the surface. I could see it in how she no longer looked up at me, searching for approval in whatever she did. She didn't need me to give her the extra money for a bit of ribbon; she bought it with what she made from Doc. Prim was a woman now, not a little girl.

On my third consecutive afternoon in town, Prim and I sat at Sae's, drinking coffee and eating slices of cherry pie. I hadn't said very much that day. A grayness had settled over me, and I didn't feel much like talking. I simply listened to Prim go on about the new dress she was making for the big Fourth of July festival. Somewhere between bows and ruffles, I lost interest.

"And then I decided that it would be better if instead of wearing my new dress, that I go completely naked," she drawled waking me from my half-sleep.

"Naked?" I croaked as my eyes widened.

Prim giggled. "Sorry," she said impishly. "I just couldn't help myself."

"No, I am sorry. I've been a bit distracted," I admitted as I poked my fork at the remains of my pie.

"You don't say," she murmured. "If it's any help at all, I am here to listen."

I shrugged and clamped my jaw tight. I didn't want to tell Prim about anything that was happening—or not happening between me and Peeta.

Prim let out a heavy sigh. "It bothers you that he'd rather work with Doc than with you, doesn't it?"

"No," I lied, but began tugging at my braid under her scrutiny. I hated that she was right. There had been a widening streak of jealousy building in my gut since the day he'd asked for Haymitch. Finally, I tossed up my hands. "Fine! It bothers me."

"I'm sure Peeta has his reasons, Katniss. It must be hard for him to constantly rely on you. Maybe he wants to rely on himself more. He is a man after all. Disabled or not, I am sure he still has his pride," Prim said sincerely.

I considered it for a moment. "By relying on Haymitch, he's relying on himself? That doesn't make any sense."

She nodded emphatically. "Oh, but it does. I doubt that Doc will pull any punches or coddle him."

"Are you saying I am a nurturing figure?" I groaned.

"Not in the traditional sense, but yes. You take care of people, Katniss. Despite whatever reservations you have or how much grumbling you do, you are the sort to champion the weak," she told me as she reached out and squeezed my hand.

"Peeta isn't weak," I declared firmly.

"He isn't," she agreed. "I know it and you know it, but maybe it's time  _he_  learned it."

I agreed with Prim's logic, but just couldn't summon up the gumption to say so. Instead, I changed the subject. I had noticed the male clientele of Sae's giving my little sister appreciative glances from around the room. It seemed that the improvements to her attire and extra weight to her frame hadn't gone unnoticed.

"Have you been asked to the festival dance yet?"

Prim blushed prettily. "I've had a few invitations, but I haven't made up my mind yet."

"Haven't made up your mind or haven't been asked by the right person?" I pressed.

"The former, I guess. The person I want to go with won't ask me, that's for sure. So I am deciding who would be the most pleasant to spend an evening with," she confessed.

I frowned. "Why won't he ask?"

Suddenly, Prim became very interested in the lace at her sleeve. "He has a lot of responsibility these days. I don't think he's considered taking anyone to the dance."

Before I could confirm my suspicions about who Prim was enamored with, a strong male voice cut through the moment. "So lovely to see how diligently you've been performing your duties, Miss Everdeen."

I stood so quickly that the chair beneath me skidded and toppled over. Matthew stood a few feet behind me, fixing me with one of the coldest glares I had ever seen.

"Mr. Mellark! I didn't know you were coming back so soon," I said, trying to remain calm.

"Obviously," he scoffed.

I bit my lip. "Have you been to see Peeta yet?"

"No, I haven't. And don't think distracting me will save your job. You are fired as of this minute," he informed me. Though he hadn't raised his voice, there was a dangerous edge to his words.

"Peeta asked me to leave him alone with Dr. Abernathy," I explained. Without knowing if Peeta had told Matthew about his attempts to walk again, I tried to say as little as possible. Unfortunately, he didn't seem to want to hear anything I had to say at the moment.

Matthew clenched his fists. "Hello and goodbye, whoever you are," he said rudely to Prim. "Miss Everdeen, you will get yourself into my car within the next minute or so help me, I will dump your belongings in the lake rather than let you collect them."

"You have no right to talk to my sister that way," I spat, letting my own anger take over. "Unlike you, I would never leave her to die on a battlefield alone."

Like an arrow, my words hit their mark. The color left his face instantly. "Again, you have one minute," he informed me before turning on his heel.

In his wake, I felt my body begin to shake. Prim put a hand on my shoulder.

"I thought that you said he was kind," she murmured, still in shock.

"I thought so, too," I snorted. I placed a couple of dollars on the table. "Finish your pie, Prim. It's probably the last slice I'll be buying you for a while."

Neither of us said a single word on the way to the house. Matthew never so much as looked my way. I could understand his anger if he thought I had truly been neglectful, but he seemed charged and ready for a battle. I could be ornery at times, yet I doubted even my magnificent rage could compare to whatever storm Matthew Mellark had building beneath his skin. His hands had gripped the steering wheel until they had turned white, and then purple. A muscle twitched in his jawline so violently that I thought he may have a stroke. That is, until we arrived at the house and saw something on the front porch that almost gave us each one.

Peeta was walking.

My mouth instantly went dry as I watched him take slow, deliberate steps toward Doc a few feet away. He leaned heavily on a pair of canes and his "feet" barely left the decking. It was an ungainly, shuffling gait, but it was beautiful. I felt like the joy in my chest could barely be contained with each step he took. Suddenly, my quarrel with Matthew didn't seem to matter anymore.

"My God," Matthew mumbled as he got out of the automobile.

At the sound of the car door closing, Peeta looked up in surprise and began to stumble forward. My heart caught in my throat in anticipation of his fall. Thankfully, Haymitch was able to steady him. Peeta – with a little help – managed to get himself back into a standing position and smiled ruefully in our direction.

"I thought I'd have a few more weeks to practice before anyone would see me," he called out to us.

"You're doing great," I managed to reply as I made my way to the porch.

Matthew walked beside me, but didn't say a thing. His gaze was completely fixed on his younger brother in absolute amazement. Finally, when the brothers stood toe-to-toe, Matthew managed to find his voice. "You're walking," he rasped.

"I am," Peeta said, his own voice thick with emotion.

"I never thought..." Matthew's words faded away with his composure. He reached out and wrapped his arms around Peeta, who stiffened for just a moment before letting go of his canes and returning the embrace.

"I never thought I'd see you stand again," Matthew finished after a moment.

"I forgot what it was like to feel so tall," Peeta said with a chuckle, as he wiped away the tears from his cheeks.

Doc touched my arm, and I instantly understood his meaning. This wasn't a moment meant for others to see. We silently strolled away, unnoticed.

"How touching," Doc muttered once we were seated on the dock. He pulled a flask from his pocket and took a long drink.

I cast a glance over my shoulder at the house. "Peeta seems to be doing really well."

"Well enough, given the circumstances," he agreed.

"His blindness?"

Haymitch shook his head. "They left a good bit of mess behind them. The field surgeon didn't bother to set the broken bones in the remainder of Peeta's left leg at all, and the right wasn't done much better. Too many injured men to spend that much time on one patient, I guess."

"Is there anything you can do?" I asked.

"No," he said with a frown. "A surgeon with a well-equipped hospital, maybe."

I folded my arms across my chest and stared out at the water. The war was an ocean away, but felt so close sometimes. When I thought of all that the soldiers went through, I couldn't help but wonder what it was all for. "Do you think it's worth it?" I asked aloud.

"You mean for Peeta?" he prompted.

"No, the war," I corrected. "When all is said and done, will any of it have really mattered all that much? So many have died and probably will still die, while so many more will never be the same again. What could possibly justify it all?"

"Hell, Sweetheart, I ain't a philosopher. Humans have been killing each other for just about no reason at all since the dawn of time. You think any of us have the answers to questions like that? And not just some patriotic cock and bull, but real answers? Those don't exist, so don't go looking for them," Doc said sardonically. He took another long drink from his flask. "Do yourself a favor: don't ask why when horrible things happen. It'll only eat you alive."

If anyone would know about that, it would be Haymitch. I didn't ask any more questions. It seemed a better policy to just do as I had always done, put my head down and move forward. Still, forward to what? As of that moment, I was unsure if I even had a job.

We didn't stay on the dock much longer. My patience only lasted so long, and I couldn't stand the unknown. As we approached the house, I saw Matthew standing along the walkway with his hands behind his back. He reminded me of a little boy confessing to putting a tack on the teacher's seat. He cleared his throat uncomfortably.

"Dr. Abernathy, I appreciate your time working with my brother," Matthew said, avoiding my gaze. He pulled an envelope from his pocket. "Peeta tells me that you won't give him a price for it, so I have taken the liberty of enclosing a sum that I find fitting."

"Didn't do much of anything," Doc told him, as he accepted the money anyway.

Matthew nodded mechanically. "Still, we are more than able to pay for your time; a luxury that I know many cannot afford." Finally, he turned to me. "If you would be so kind, Miss Everdeen, I would ask for your company on a short stroll?"

"All right," I agreed as my stomach tightened. I ignored his offered arm. After the way he'd acted earlier, I wasn't about to let him play at chivalry.

"I owe you and your sister both an apology," he said as soon as we were alone.

"You do," I confirmed flatly. "You had no right to jump to conclusions or to treat Prim like she wasn't even worth your effort."

"I will do my best to make it up to her – to both of you. I let my temper get the better of me," he told me with a look so sincere that I almost softened toward him. "I'd heard a rumor that turned out to be nothing more than a misunderstanding. You see, one of my foremen telephoned me in Pittsburgh to tell me that you were neglecting my brother. I should have asked you why you weren't with Peeta instead of charging at you like a bull. I am sorry."

Rather than being placated by his apology, I found myself seeing red. "You had someone keeping tabs on me?'

"Not exactly," he sputtered uselessly. "What I meant was that... Well, I suppose I didn't really see it that way. I merely asked that they keep me informed should there be anything I needed to know."

"Here's an idea – ask me or Peeta!"

"I should have, but Peeta's moods have been rather mercurial since the war and you are practically a stranger, Katniss. You can't tell me that you wouldn't have done something similar," he stated rather confidently.

I opened my mouth to disagree, but instantly shut it again. Damn him, he was right. I didn't like empathizing with Matthew, but at times, I couldn't help it. The pair of us were different as could be in almost every way, except one – we both loved our younger siblings more than anything. In all honesty, had the roles been reversed, I may not have reacted much differently. I could be angry at him, but I couldn't hate him for the way he'd acted.

"So I guess this means I am still employed," I muttered, trying to bypass his observation.

Matthew nodded. "You are. And I must say, I am very impressed by what you've done so far."

"Peeta just needed someone to let him try," I told him curtly. "If you'll excuse me, I'd like to see how your brother is feeling."

I skipped dinner that night and spent some time alone in my room with a copy of  _Walden_  I had played at reading ever since the picnic. I laid on my bed fingering the pages lightly, but not really seeing the words on the page. I was still feeling off kilter. When Matthew had "fired" me, I was angry that was for sure. But on the heels of rage came a pain so acute that it had taken me by surprise. No matter how I tried to brush it aside, I just couldn't deny that I cared more for Peeta than I should. The safe solution would be to quit – to use Matthew's earlier outburst as an escape route, but I couldn't. Between Matthew's sudden appearance and Peeta's attempts to walk, it felt like a tornado had ripped apart the quiet life I was just beginning to lead. The last gusts of my anger seemed to clear away the debris covering the real heart of problem and left it out in the open for the first time. I was dangerously close to falling in love with Peeta Mellark.

After darkness fell over the house and the last lights were put out in the hallway, I crept out of my room in nothing but my nightgown. I had a restlessness inside of me that wouldn't have waned in bed beside Peeta. My bare feet didn't make a sound as I hurried down the stairs. It was more tangible and perhaps more frightening than my nightmares. I made my way through the kitchen and outside. My breath caught as I spotted a figure seated on the porch swing.

Matthew looked nothing like the composed gentleman I was used to seeing. Clad in his own night clothes and holding a glass full of liquor of some sort, he seemed absolutely miserable. I tried to ignore the sheen of freshly shed tears on his face. Peeta's show of emotion had tugged at my heart, but Matthew's made me uncomfortable. I wanted to turn on my heel and leave him to his solitary drinking. Instead, I stood there and stared at him as his bleary gaze met my own.

"I didn't leave him to die, God damn you," he slurred after a nearly a minute of silence.

I sighed. I knew better than to try to reason with drunks. That was the very first lesson I learned working for Doc. "You couldn't have known what would have happened," I said softly.

"You don't understand," he continued, unfazed by my words. "They wouldn't have me. Told me to show my patriotism by supporting the war."

"What do you mean they wouldn't have you?" I asked cocking my head to the side.

Matthew shrugged and laughed bitterly. "Bad heart, they tell me. I had scarlet fever when I was five. The doctor said I wasn't up to being a soldier. Not man enough, he meant. I couldn't quite summon up the guts to tell Peeta. He used to look up to me, you know."

The revelation fell on me like a ton of bricks. All this time, Peeta had thought that his brother had caved to the family pressure and abandoned him. How could Matthew not tell him the truth? In light of what Peeta had suffered, it didn't make much sense to conceal such a trivial thing just to avoid looking weak. I'd never understand men, not if I lived a thousand years.

"You could tell him now," I suggested.

"What difference would it make? My brother hates me," he declared before polishing off his glass. He poured another with a less than steady hand and offered it to me. "I hate drinking alone."

I accepted the drink, more to keep him from having it than because I wanted it. Sipping the potent liquid, I held back a wince.

"Peeta doesn't hate you."

Matthew shrugged. "He should."

I agreed, but I didn't say that. Even I have my moments of diplomacy. The drink had loosened his tongue. Unlike Doc, who was ornery when he drank, Matthew seemed the morose sort who wanted to share his whole sad story. I wasn't used to that kind of thing, but I supposed being that he paid me good money for almost no work, I should at least lend an ear to his ramblings. I took a seat beside him on the swing, and listened as he talked.

"You know, I never liked Luke. There, I said it out loud for the first time in twenty-seven years. I still don't like the little bastard," he muttered. "He was always so snide and cruel. Father bought me a pup when I was a boy. Every time I wasn't looking, Luke would kick the poor boy. One day, the dog had finally had enough and bit him. Mother had the gardener take him out back and shoot him. Never forgave Luke for it, either. And then came Peeta..."

"I was six when he was born, and I felt like I'd been entrusted with something very special. Peeta was so trusting, so kind. He saw the best in everything and everyone. I never wanted him to lose that. Growing up, I was always just a step behind, making sure that nothing harmed him. He was mine to keep safe. What a failure I turned out to be." He looked at me with the saddest eyes I had ever seen. "When he came home..." he paused, "When he came home, all I wanted to do was end his pain, to see him taken care of so that he would want for nothing, struggle for nothing. I brought him here so he didn't have to face the pain of being rejected by our family and society. Everything I did only made it worse though, didn't it?"

"A bit," I answered honestly.

"I'll do better," Matthew swore.

He stood with about as much sure-footedness as Peeta had shown earlier. His large frame swayed, and he reached for the railing before falling. Now this kind of thing I could handle. I wedged my shoulder beneath his arm. "One step at a time," I assured him.

The trip to Matthew's room was rather perilous. We both almost fell a few times, and he didn't exactly cooperate when I tried to get him into bed. In the end, I left him with one foot hanging off the end. He was too heavy to manipulate and too drunk to really help much. I was genuinely tired by the time I headed to my own bed. I paused in the hall and stared at Peeta's door. For a moment, my hand hovered over the door handle, and I almost gave in to the urge to wrap myself in his comforting arms. I thought I heard a muffled curse from within, but convinced myself it was just my imagination. Peeta was probably soundly asleep after all. I scurried off to my bed and berated myself for being such a fool.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is MUCH more mature than what has been posted elsewhere. Fair warning!

Nothing comes without a price; I had learned that lesson young. But I guess when it came to Peeta, I felt like he had already paid so very much. He'd given pieces of his body and his entire future to the war. Didn't he deserve a bit of undimmed happiness? Fate, it seemed, didn't see things the same way I did. The morning after Matthew's return, I opened the door, expecting to see him sitting up in bed smiling like he had for the last few weeks. Instead, Peeta's face was nearly as white as the sheets and his features were tight with agony.

“Good morning,” he said, forcing a smile.

My stomach clenched as I sat down by his side. “My God, Peeta, you look like you've been through hell and all you have to say is 'good morning?”

“I'll be fine,” he lied.

“What happened?” I asked as I pressed my fingers to his face, checking for fever. Luckily, I found none.

Peeta shrugged. “My legs hurt. I think I might have over done it with walking.”

Frowning, I tossed up the covers. Unlike most of his pants, his pajama bottoms hadn't been sown shut, so I rolled them up to reveal his stumps. I instinctively let out a gasp of sympathy as I stared at the raw, reddened flesh that was now bare. His knee had swollen to almost double the size. This was far more than just overdoing it. I gently touched his skin, causing him to take a sharp breath. “I'm sorry,” I murmured in response.

“I don't think I'll do any walking today,” he said, lying back on his pillow.

“No, I don't think so either,” I agreed. “I don't even think you should get out of this bed.”

He raised a brow. “So you'll join me?”

“Hardly, you fool. I'm going to send Thresh to go fetch Doc,” I told him, ignoring his attempt at humor.

“I'll be fine,” he argued once more. “I'm sure he has more productive things to do with his day than play mother hen.”

I snorted. “Tending to those who need it is his job.”

Peeta clenched his fists around the sheets and set his jaw. “Then send for him.”

Guilt ate at my gut as I walked down to the kitchen. I’d been certain that I had heard something coming from Peeta's room the night before, but in my own cowardice, I didn't check on him. I was so afraid of my feelings that I forgot what I had come to do. Maybe Matthew had been right; in a way, I had been neglecting Peeta. I was so focused on my own emotional survival that I never thought about what I was doing to him. I didn't think that he could need more from me during the night otherthan someone to wake him from his nightmares. He needed someone he could truly rely on, someone who would love him like he deserved. Though my heart ached at the thought, I was certain that I should leave. Quit so that someone else could do the job right.

I found Thresh eating his breakfast at the table while Nola and Rue put together ours. His sharp, dark eyes zeroed in on mine, and in an instant, he seemed to realize that something was wrong. He frowned and put his half full bowl aside. “Did you need me?” he asked.

I nodded. “Go get Doc, please. Peeta's legs are bothering him pretty badly.”

“Anything I need to tell him?”

“Just get him here. To be honest, I am not sure how steady he'll be when you wake him,” I admitted. Doc's drinking wasn't exactly a secret, but it wasn't my place to tell anyone just how incapacitated he usually got.

“I'll be back before you know it,” he said comfortingly as he put a hand on my shoulder. It was a strange thing, but just then, I realized that Thresh must have inherited his father's gifted voice. His was the kind of voice that you believed when he told you things would work out, and I trusted him.

On my way back to Peeta's room, I lingered at Matthew's door. I didn't want to face him just yet, but I knew he had to be told about Peeta. I gave three quick knocks and waited. “Let me be. I'll take my damned breakfast when I want it,” he snapped from inside.

“Peeta's not feeling well,” I called, not daring to open the door.

I heard a curse and some thumping from within before he appeared in the hall. Matthew looked almost as bad as his brother did. His hair was a rumpled mess, and he winced at the light. “Summon the doctor at once,” he commanded as he stormed by me.

“I already did,” I informed him curtly.

He turned toward me and frowned. “How long has he been like this?”

“I suppose a while. He was in pain when I went to wake him,” I answered.

“And you didn't realize it?”

My back straightened. “I was dealing with other matters before I went to bed last night.”

“So you did.” He had the good grace to at least look embarrassed. “It seems thatwhen this is over, I'll owe you another apology.”

“You've certainly made a habit of it,” I ground out with narrowed eyes, not waiting for his reply.

By the time I got back, Peeta had pulled himself into a seated position on the edge of the bed. He still looked terrible, but a bit more alert than he had before. His smile was slightly less strained.

“Is the cavalry coming to rescue me?” he asked wryly.

“From yourself, hopefully,” I shot back with a snort.

He frowned. “I seem to only be capable of making you angry.”

“I'm not angry.”

“You are. I don't need to see it written on your face. Believe me, I am well acquainted with the strained tones of Katniss Everdeen's wrath. If I could only figure out a way to make you smile half as much, I might deserve you,” he said with a feigned lightness.

“Think you can make it into your chair without too much pain?” I asked. As always, there was more to what Peeta said than just the face value of his words, but I wasn't ready to go any deeper.

Doc arrived not long after Peeta and I finished getting him ready for the day. I absolutely insisted thatPeeta put on a clean pair of pajamas rather than normal clothing, and he didn't fight me on it. I think the pain convinced him that a day of rest wasn't such a bad idea. He even seemed resigned to Doc looking him over. Although he threw a fit when Matthew tried to stay through the examination, Peeta didn't say a word about my presence.

Thankfully, Haymitch was smack in the middle of what seemed like a sober spell. His eyes were clear and his hands steady. He examined Peeta quickly and thoroughly, and I watched from behind as he carefully felt his stumps. The look on Doc's face was anything but hopeful as he concluded his work. “This didn't just start today,” he pronounced grimly. “Boy, you and I had a deal about working with those prostheses.”

“I wasn't as bad before,” Peeta argued flatly.

“Well, it's sure as hell that bad now,” Doc snapped.

“Did he just push too hard?” I chimed in.

Haymitch shrugged. “Not a hundred percent sure, Sweetheart. Like I said to the boy, I've never really worked with an amputee like this before. Could be he just overdid it, could be more. Seems to me, though, that what I thought was just poorly set bones could be something else.”\

“Like what?” Peeta asked, looking much more nervous than he had before.

“I've heard about some amputees having problems with bones growing in places they shouldn't. I remember reading something about it when I was working in the city, but if memory serves, it was only in children. I'll have to send a wire out to a few more specialized friends of mine. Sorry to say, it's the best I can tell you,” Doc admitted. “For now, I don't want you to even think about using those legs. Stay in bed and keep your legs propped up. Let Katniss here take care of you for the day.”

Peeta took the news quietly. He thanked Doc for his time, but didn't say another word about the possible complication. I was reminded of his pessimistic prediction in regards to fooling himself about walking, and tried not to wish that he had never sent for the legs either. Once Haymitch went out to talk to Matthew, I sat down on the bed beside him. On instinct, I reached out for his hand and he squeezed my fingers.

“We don't know for sure if Haymitch is right,” I said hopefully.

He gave an attempt at a smile and nodded.

“I'll go get your breakfast,” I told him as I tried to stand.

Peeta gripped my fingers. “Don't go. I'm really not even hungry. I just... I just don't want to sit here on my own.”

“All right,” I agreed. “I'll stay as long as you'd like.”

“Don't make promises you can't keep, Katniss. Especially not now,” he said with a dark laugh.

I don't know why I did it. To this day, I can't pin down one rational thought that made me want to kiss Peeta. It seemed so sudden when I pressed my lips onto his. He pulled me tight as my tongue traced his lower lip, and I found myself pinned against his chest. I parted his lips and kissed him so deep that it was almost as though I could swallow his pain. My fingers dug into his shoulder blades. I wanted to erase everything but thismoment. Finally, he broke the kiss; his hands trembling as he pushed me away.

“I want you more than I've ever wanted anything in my life, Katniss,” he murmured breathlessly. “But don't do this because you pity me.”

“I don't pity you,” I told him as I tried to make my heart stop racing.

“Some days, I'm so confused that I don't know what to make of myself. I keep imagining what it would be like between us if I were a whole man. I play this story of us over and over again in my mind, and there are moments when I can almost believe that you love me,” he said.

My mouth went dry. I wasn't quite sure what to say. The truth would be that sometimes I believed I loved him, too, but those were words I couldn't say aloud just yet. How could I give him the declaration that I had denied Gale before his death? How could I say them without promising more than I could deliver? Peeta deserved more.

“You're not the only one who is confused,” I said, looking away.

Peeta sighed. “Fair enough. Answer me this, though – if I weren't a... well, if I wasn't like I am, would you still be confused?”

I opened my mouth to speak, but a knock at the door saved me from making an even bigger mess of things. Matthew's form filled the door frame, and his gaze moved between us as though he knew there was something going on between us. I straightened the wrinkles out of my dress as I stood, and tried to appear innocent.

“I'll go get breakfast while you two talk,” I announced as I headed for the door.

Safely in the kitchen, I went about putting together plates for each of us. Nola had outdone herself with Eggs Benedict and apple muffins. My stomach growled at the scent. I had never really been one to let my emotions get in the way of a good meal, and I hoped Peeta would eat something, too.

Nola kept sending me sidelong glances from over her pile of dishes.

“What?” I asked with a frown.

“Nothin' that you've a mind to hear,” she grumbled.

“So tell me anyway.”

She pulled herself up to her full height and looked me dead in the eye. “Either you love that boy, or you leave that boy. Can't be no in-between.”

“You were listening at the door,” I murmured as my mind raced.

“With a kiss like that, it don't surprise me none that you didn't hear the door open. I was bringing up some extra pillows for Mr. Peeta. Wasn't my goal to eavesdrop,” she said plainly. “Now, I know your mama isn't hereto tell you, Katniss, but you don't kiss a man like that and expect there won't be nothin' to come of it.”

“I didn't mean for things to happen the way they did,” I replied softly.

Nola let out a sniff of annoyance. “You dug yourself a fine hole, girl. You've got some choices to make.”

Though Matthew went off to the mines, leaving us all alone, Peeta and I barely spoke for the rest of the day. After breakfast, I gave him some of the laudanum Doc left for the pain and he fell into a deep sleep. I sat on the chair beside his bed, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest. My mind kept going back to my conversations with Nola and Peeta. I knew that I needed to make a choice. The confusion building in my heart was enough to drown in.

I tried to picture Gale's face in my mind, and the image wasn't nearly as sharp as it had once been. There were pieces of him that had faded in my mind already. I couldn't remember the sound of his laugh or the way he smelled. I could recall a thousand days of running wild in the woods, and still felt the ghost of passions long gone, but the thought that he was gone didn't rip me asunder. The pain of his loss was still there, but it wasn't what it should have been. In my heart, I knew that the love I had for Gale wasn't the kind of love that he wanted from me. I loved him as my dearest friend, but not my future husband. For the first time, I was honest about a harsh truth; even if Gale had come home, I couldn't have married him.

And then there was Peeta – sweet, kind, gentle Peeta. He hadn't told me so, but I knew he loved me. How could I not know? Even I wasn't that naive about love. The problem was that I knew I couldn't be what he needed from me. I couldn't say the words, and even if I could, he deserved the kind of well brought-up wife who understood the Mellarks and their upper-class ways. He deserved a woman who always thought of him first rather than her own foolish notions. I just wasn't that woman. The real crux of the matter was that no matter how much I knew I should go, I couldn't force myself to leave him. The idea that I would never see Peeta again damn near killed me. It was like I needed his touch and his kindness to make my days seem worthwhile. I was just too selfish to leave.

Peeta's eyes fluttered open sometime that afternoon. He rolled on his side and looked toward where I sat. “I wasn't sure you'd still be here,” he said with sleep still lingering in his voice.

“Where else would I be?”

“You don't have to stay,” he told me, avoiding my question. It seemed that maybe I had influenced him just a bit. He was becoming a master at diversion.

“Do you want me to go?” I asked. He wasn't going to get rid of me without saying the words outright.

He shrugged. “You never answered my question earlier on, and I guess that was for the better. You are just one more thing I need to get used to living without. Just like with walking, I let myself hope for foolish things.”

“I didn't answer because we were interrupted,” I argued.

“And what would you have said if we weren't?” he demanded.

My heart leapt into my throat. I wanted to tell him that I wasn't confused anymore, that his injuries didn't change anything. There were a million things I wanted to say, but I couldn't. Words had left me. The silence that stretched out between us may as well have been miles. I had never felt so far away from someone before.

Peeta snorted and shook his head. “Leave me alone. Pack your bags, and I'll see to it that Thresh takes you home tomorrow morning.”

“Don't do this,” I begged.

“Let me tell you how this story ends, Katniss. The princess leaves her broken knight on the battleground and goes off to find her prince. I know there is a man out there who can fill the place that Gale left. Maybe he'll give you a happy ending,” he paused. “Just go.”

“But I...”

“Go! Get out! Leave me the fuck alone!” he bellowed, throwing a pillow in my direction.

I backed away, knocking the chair out from under me in my wake. My legs and skirt became entangled on it, and I found myself suddenlyhurled to the ground. I hit the floor with such force that it knocked the air from my lungs. I laid there in shock for nearly a minute before I realized that the door had been opened. Thresh's strong hands pulled me up. I blinked at him, still not quite sure what had just happened between Peeta and I.

“Is she injured?” Peeta asked imperiously. He sounded like the lion-man I had met when I first came to the house, but still looked like my Peeta.

“I'm all right,” I said before Thresh could answer.

Peeta's blue eyes would have turned me to stone on the spot if they could have. “Don't speak to me,” he ground out through clenched teeth. “Thresh, I don't care what the hell you do with her, just keep her away from me.”

I made a move toward the bed, but Thresh caught me by the arm and shook his head. “I'll see her out, Mr. Peeta.”

As I followed Thresh into the hall, I heard a thunderous crash against the wall. I assumed that the lovely lamp on the nightstand had met its unfortunate demise, but I couldn't be bothered to care. I was completely numb. Peeta hated me right now, and I couldn't blame him. All I wanted to do was curl into a ball on my bed and hide from the world.

“Did he hurt you, Miss Katniss?” Thresh asked, tearing me from my thoughts.

I shook my head. “I'm fine. He startled me and I tripped.”

“I'll take you to town right away if you don't want to wait for Mr. Matthew.”

“No, I'll stay for tonight,” I said anxiously.

I didn't leave my room that evening. Rue brought up a tray for me at dinner time, but I didn't feel like eating. Not long after that, Matthew knocked on the door asking me if I wanted to talk about what happened, but I didn't feel like talking either. What I wanted seemed so very far beyond my reach at the moment. I didn't cry. I just sat on my bed with my knees hugged to my chest, staring at the door that separated me and Peeta. It was just after midnight when I had a revelation.

Doors could be opened.

Gathering up the remains of my courage, I snuck into Peeta's room. My hands trembled at the door knob so much that I almost couldn't turn it. The moonlight shining through the window was just enough for me to see him sit up in bed at the sound of the door creaking.

“Go back to your room. I thought I made myself clear enough,” he commanded roughly.

“But I didn't,” I said in a whisper. I stilldidn't have the words to tell Peeta what I wanted or what I felt. There was only one way to make him understand. One by one, I undid the buttons on my nightdress as I walked toward his bed.

He sighed. “Katniss, you don't have to explain. I'm sorry I was so angry, but there's really no point in continuing on as we are.”

“You're right,” I agreed as the fabric fell away from my body and landed almost silently on the floor.

“Please, I can't take any more. If you get into this bed tonight and then leave tomorrow, I don't know what I will do,” he pleaded.

“I'm not leaving.” My mind was made up. I sat down beside him and let my bare arm brush against his side. His fingers trailed my skin, and his eyes widened as he realized what I wasn't wearing. I leaned in and kissed him again. This time, I wasn't going to leave anything to chance.

“My God,” Peeta murmured as he pulled me close. “This has to be a dream. It can't be real. Now I know that I've truly gone mad.”

“Shhhh,” I breathed into his ear as I guided his hands toward me. “It’s real. I'm right here. Look at me.”

He chuckled. “Oh, I intend to.”

He shifted enough forme to lay down beside him. His fingertips on my skin were sweet torture. I couldn't stop myself from gasping as his lips began to join in the exploration. Peeta was seeing me in a way that no one ever had before, not even Gale. He gently cupped my breasts, and my nipples hardened beneath his caress. I cried out in pleasure as he licked each peak before moving on. From my shoulders to my toes, not a single inch was ignored. “So beautiful,” he said before pressing a final kiss to the sole of my right foot.

“My turn.”

I urgently tugged at his top. I wasn't about to let the opportunity to touch the chest and arms that I had been admiring for so long slip away. I straddled his hips and felt his hardness against me. A thrill shot through me, but I wanted to do for him what he had done for me. I began to kiss and touch my way around his body, paying extra attention to his shoulders. Though I couldn't see them in the moonlight, I knew there were about a hundred tiny freckles beneath my lips, and I couldn't help but wish that Peeta hadn't broken the lamp. I wanted to see all of him, desperately. He let out a moan as my tongue touched his ear.

“Slow down, Katniss,” he begged as he held me back. “I've never done this before.”

I stiffened in his grasp. It had never occurred to me that he may be a virgin. “I have. Just trust me.”

“God help me, I do.”

I moved slowly and deliberately. In a way, I think I was more nervous than he was. I wanted to make him happy. Moreover, I wanted to show his body how I felt about him. Holding his hardened cock in my hand, I began to stroke him gently. He gasped and began making low, guttural sounds. I took my time sliding him inside of me, savoring the feel of our bodies coming together. His hips moved instinctively with mine. Each motion sent a wave of pure bliss through me.

Before too long, Peeta's movements became a bit more frantic. I could feel his muscles tightening. I knew what was about to happen, but I didn't dare pull away. Consequences be damned, I wanted everything he had to give me. My own excitement mounted as he began to shudder beneath me.

“I think I'm going to...” His words were cut short as he finished with a roar of satisfaction. He went limp and his breathing was ragged.

I snuggled up beside him and let him wrap his arms around me. I didn't quite know what to say at this point. We had done something that I knew would change us both. There were only three words I knew that could sum up something so monumental, but I couldn't say them—not yet, maybe never.

“I'm sorry,” Peeta said softly.

“For what?” I asked.

“I shouldn't have... Well, I didn't last very long. I'm sorry if you didn't enjoy it,” he apologized again.

I tightened my hold around his waist. “I did enjoy it. Besides, you say it like it's never going to happen again.”

“Oh, it'll happen again,” he promised with a chuckle. “My God, if it was possible to die from wanting you, I think I would have been dead already.”

“You've thought about me?”

“I never planned on being a monk, Katniss.”

I laughed and began touching him once more. There was something about the darkness that made me feel bold. It was like I could do anything I pleased. All of the wanton desires that I had hidden since Peeta had first kissed me could be real under the cover of night if only I was brave enough. And I was.

“Can you do something for me?” I asked seductively.

“Anything.”

“I want you on top of me,” I said.

He hesitated. “I can't really support myself. I don't want to hurt you.”

“You won't hurt me,” I promised.

And he didn't. Pain was the farthest thing from my mind as he moved awkwardly between my thighs. The weight of him pushing me down into the mattress was tantalizingly masculine. A jolt of pure pleasure sped up my spine as I wrapped my legs around his waist. My hips arched up to meet him as he pushed into me. I couldn't contain the sounds that escaped me. I clawed at his back and bit into his shoulder as he brought me to one dazzling height after another, and my whole being cried out for more. This time, I climaxed a bare second before he did.

Even in the dim light, I could see his satisfied grin as he rolled off of me. “If I didn't know any better, I would think that you have been thinking about me as much as I think about you,” he teased.

I felt myself blush. “Shut up, Peeta.”

I snuggled up against his chest contentedly. I could feel his heart still beating like a caged bird's wings under my palm. I could never be ashamed of what we just shared. I had never known the kind of peace that he brought me and wished that night would never end. Tomorrow would bring questions and choices, but I didn't want to think about that. I just wanted to enjoy lying in the dark and loving Peeta Mellark for all I was worth.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thanks to Chelzie for beta'ing this for me.

Chapter 13 

I woke up to sunlight streaming through the window and kisses being pressed against my neck, and I couldn't recall a more perfect morning. Peeta trailed a fingertip across my shoulder and down the curve of my ribs and hipbone. I shivered a bit as he reached a sensitive spot.

“Stay still,” he said huskily into my ear. “An artist needs his subject to remain still.”

“Oh?”

He nodded. “I am drawing you on the canvas in my mind,” he explained.

“And how do I look?” I asked with a grin.

“Like the beautiful woman I made love to last night. Although I do have to admit, I am still not convinced you are indeed Katniss Everdeen,” he said with a chuckle.

I rolled onto my back. “And why is that?”

Peeta shrugged and closed his eyes. “I don't want to talk about the rest of it now.”

“Do you regret what we did?” I asked. “I didn't think that you might not have... you know, that it might be your first time.”

“No, I don't regret it. You know how I feel about you, Katniss. I just wish... Well, I wish for about a million things, but I'm not going to push,” he told me with a sigh. He propped himself up on his elbow and smiled, pushing away the darkness that had shrouded his features only a second before. “What made you come to me, anyway?”

“A lot of things, I guess,” I answered vaguely.

“None of them specific?”

“I want to be here with you, Peeta. I don't know what else I have to offer beyond that, but I want to be with you. The thought of leaving you made me realize just how much you mean to me,” I said, trying to look away.

He pulled me into a kiss so passionate that my toes curled beneath the covers. The hunger I still I felt for him only hours after making love was astounding. I thought that maybe the act would lessen the pull I felt toward him, but it didn't. Not in the least. In fact, I wanted him more. There was something about Peeta that drew me into a peaceful place. It was like I was at home whenever I was with him. His love was in every kiss and every caress, and I needed it so desperately.

A knock at the door interrupted what would have led to another round of lovemaking.

“Mr. Peeta, are you awake?” Thresh's voice called from behind the door.

“Yes, Thresh. Katniss is helping me get dressed. We'll be down in a bit,” Peeta commanded, somehow managing to keep his laughter at bay. I, on the other hand, had to stifle my giggles. For some reason, nearly being caught in a scandalous situation made me laugh. I buried my face in his chest until the urge subsided.

“We had better get up,” I said reluctantly.

He pushed himself upright lazily, giving me a wonderful view of his chest as the covers fell. His body was strong and well-muscled, so undeniably masculine that I couldn't stop myself from leaning over and kissing his collarbone. “Keep that up, and I don't think we will be going anywhere for a while,” he warned me as my lips brushed his throat.

“Sorry,” I said, feeling heat rise to my cheeks.

“I like this side of you,” he told me with a laugh as his hand caressed my bare breast.

“The naked side?” I asked.

He grinned. “That too, but mostly I just like it when you're happy. I think I could devote the rest of my life to listening to you laugh and be a happy man.”

“You're turning into one big lump of sugar,” I teased as I rolled my eyes.

“Well,” he began with a chuckle, “I suppose that would make you an enchantress. You couldn't turn me back to a man from a beast, so you decided to turn me to a besotted beast instead of an angry one.”

I frowned. “You're not a beast. Don't say things like that.”

“Be honest, Katniss,” he sighed. “You can't overlook everything that is wrong with me.”

“I see it all,” I assured him as I tugged the rest of the covers away, ignoring his protests. “And I like what I see.”

“I'm not sure which one of us is more blind,” he muttered, shaking his head.

Though he may think otherwise, there was just something that I found irresistible about Peeta's body. I suppose that I saw him as whole rather than pieces. It was like his scars and infirmities didn't matter to me when I looked at him because I saw all of him. Even then, I knew that I would never be able to explain that to people who didn't see him as I did, but it didn't matter. To me, his body was beautiful. I just didn't know what to say to get him to believe that.

We dressed quickly, but I wasn't going to let him get back to his normal routine. I absolutely would not agree to help him haul himself down the steps—a sentiment which Matthew quickly echoed. Though Peeta was not exactly enthusiastic about staying upstairs another day, he didn't argue too much either. I think that he was in more pain than he would admit.

Breakfast was an awkward affair. We ate in the upstairs parlor, and the closer seating made it hard to ignore the pensive looks that Matthew kept giving me. I looked up from my eggs to see him staring at me intently. He didn't even have the good grace to avert his gaze when I stared back. I suspected he may have a feeling that something happened between me and Peeta, but didn't want to know for sure. I had a feeling that if he knew what had gone on last night, he would either send me packing or us straight to the altar. Neither option was appealing at the moment. Thankfully, he excused himself at the end of the meal.

“Are things still not going well?” Peeta asked as Matthew stood up. It was the first time that I had heard about anything wrong at the mines.

Matthew sighed. “Better, but still not well, I suppose. I need to find a competent man to handle things here. It seems that Father's hands-off approach has done more harm than good.”

“I'm sure you'll sort it out,” Peeta predicted.

The elder Mellark only nodded distractedly, his eyes once again on me. I doubt he even realized the futility of the action. “Katniss, would you mind walking out with me? I have a few things I need to ask you.”

My heart thundered at the possibility of what would come of this, but I did as he asked. Following him out to his car, there was a strained silence between us. He, it seemed, wasn’t any more comfortable broaching the topic than I was. Finally, he cleared his throat.

“This is never a discussion that a man wants to have,” he began, looking oddly contrite. “Still, things have been brought to light at the mine...”

“The mine?” I echoed.

Matthew frowned. “Yes, the mine. Exactly what did you think we were going to talk about?”

My mouth opened and closed several times before I could produce any sound. “I was assuming you wanted to talk about Peeta.”

“Of course,” he drawled, unconvinced. He let the matter drop and continued on. “The records at the mine list your father as a casualty of the cave-in several years back. Is that true?”

I nodded.

“Forgive me for asking, but do you happen to know what kind of monetary compensation your family received afterward?” he asked.

“What do you mean monetary compensation? We were given a ham and a plaque. There was never any money,” I spat out bitterly.

To be honest, I tried not to connect the Mellarks with cave-in. As horrible as it was, anyone who grew up in a mining town knew what dangers lay within the Earth. Men went in and sometimes didn't come back out. Oh, that didn't mean that I wasn't angry about what happened. Not a day went by that I didn't feel something over the loss of my father, but my anger went a bit higher than Mellarks. Still, I didn't know why Matthew would bring up the subject of money. He should know better than anyone that no money was given to us or to any of the families that lost their men that day, but he looked absolutely stunned by the idea.

“Are you certain that your mother didn't receive money that you were unaware of?” he asked.

“I'm sure. I'm positive that not one red cent was given to us, and that no one at your precious mine cared if we all starved to death,” I seethed.

“The ledgers state that each family was given one hundred dollars to cover the funerals and other expenses, and that each following year, fifty dollars was given on the anniversary of the accident.” By that point, Matthew's face had lost all color and his eyes were wide. He honestly believed what he was saying.

“I don't know who wrote the ledger, but they are lying,” I said, managing to keep my voice even.

He shook his head. “Thread. That damned bastard has been pocketing the money. I had my suspicions for years, but...”

“But what?” I demanded. “It wasn't worth your time to look into it?”

Matthew's eyes met mine defiantly. “It wasn't my place. Do you think just because I am the owner's son that I can do whatever I please? My father trusted Thread. I needed proof to destroy a man's reputation and brand him a thief.”

“Right,” I said dryly. “And it's perfectly fine to let the families of the men who died suffer because you won't step out of line. After all, I see what your family does when one of you loses your shine.”

“You've been wronged by my family, so I will ignore that comment,” he warned. With that, he turned on his heel, and left me on the porch.

I angrily tromped into the kitchen. His arrogance didn't really surprise me, but it did irk me. It was a wonder that with all of the snobbery around him, Peeta could still be so very sweet. In this case, the apple didn't fall from the tree. It was hurled half way across the damned state.

As I opened the door, I saw two forms scatter from their places at the table. Thresh was grinning ear to ear with his arms crossed over his chest, while Nola gave me sly glances from the stove. Instantly, I felt heat rise to my cheeks. I wanted to declare my innocence, but I knew it would be useless. Nola and Thresh were much sharper than eldest Mellark brother seemed to be. I didn't say a single word as I poured myself another cup of coffee and leaned on the counter. I wasn't going to let them run me off. Thresh chuckled and excused himself.

“Guess you took my advice,” Nola declared with a wide grin.

“Shouldn't I be taken out to the town square and stoned as harlot?” I quipped dryly.

She snorted. “Doesn't seem like you got much of a sense of humor today.”

“I'm sorry,” I said earnestly. “Just a rough morning.”

“Well, let me tell you something that just might make your day a bit better; Mr. Matthew mentioned to Thresh that he'd been heading out come the end of the week,” she said slyly.

I looked away to hide my relief. It wasn't that I didn't like Matthew—or maybe it was, I simply couldn't decide—but I just wanted him gone. As each day went by, I became more and more attached to the little world we had here on our own. I didn't want or need his involvement. Still, I realized that Peeta probably felt different about it, so I kept my thoughts to myself.

“Rue's birthday is soon, isn't it?” I asked.

Nola smiled and shook her head at my obvious diversion. “On the tenth. Got a little under two weeks. I was hoping to maybe ask Mr. Peeta for a half day so we can celebrate.”

“Of course, we should celebrate. Peeta wouldn't say no to that.”

“No, I don't suppose he would. Boy is kinder than that,” she agreed.

“If it helps, I can bring it up to him,” I offered.

The idea of a birthday party for Rue really appealed to me. We didn't have much back home, but we always made sure to acknowledge birthdays in one way or another. Though we never had the money for store bought presents, I could recall many homemade gifts from Prim that had stayed in my heart over the years. I would have to think up something special for Rue. I was still thinking about it as I came back upstairs.

Peeta adamantly refused to get back in bed, and I found him rolling his chair back and forth idly in front of the parlor window. He turned at the sound of my approach. “I was beginning to think you were just going to leave me up here on my own today,” he said with a nervous smile. I could tell that he was being partially honest.

“I'm not that much of a coward.” I took a seat and began thumbing through a book that I had grabbed from the shelf. “I don't suppose you would want me to read to you from _Wuthering Heights_?”

“Please, don't do this, Katniss,” he sighed.

“Do what?” I asked, feigning ignorance. “I didn't know you disliked Brontë that much.”

“You're pushing away, pretending that nothing happened last night,” he said, moving right to the heart of the matter. “Last night happened, and you know how I feel about you. Those are two things I wouldn't take back even if I could. I told you that I wouldn't push, and I won't. But don't you dare pull away. Not now.”

“I don't know what you want from me,” I said, looking away. Though Peeta's gaze never really met mine, even indirect contact with those blue eyes of his was too much for me right now. He was right, I was pulling away. I wanted to run.

He pushed himself close to the chair I was in until he brushed up against my knees. Holding out a hand, he prompted me to lace my fingers with his. “You do know what I want from you,” he countered softly. “And that's part of what scares you. The other part it is that you don't know what you want from me.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but shut it instantly. He was right. What did I really want from him? I knew I wanted to be here. I knew that my heart was already so tangled up in him that every day it was getting harder to deny that I loved him. What I didn't know was what it all truly meant. In my experiences, love ended so horribly that it was almost impossible to see a positive outcome for any of it.

“You're right,” I admitted after a while. “It does scare me. I don't know how to do this.”

“Just let me love you. Who knows, maybe someday, you may even love me back,” he said with a sad smile.

I couldn't help myself. I pulled him into a deep kiss. The feel of his lips against mine was almost enough to wipe away my fears. I wanted to give him the love and trust that he so freely gave to me, but couldn't...at least, not openly.

Peeta chuckled and pushed aside the lock of hair that had fallen over my forehead. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

“I think I have an idea,” I teased.

We lazily spent the day in the parlor. Though Peeta refused my offer to read Brontë, he did send me to his room to fetch his copy of _The Time Machine_ from his old room. He didn't seem very happy about being inside all day again. I eventually convinced him to move to the sofa beside me. I propped his “legs” up on a pillow, and snuggled in beside him as I read. Every so often, he would nuzzle my neck or kiss my ear to distract me from the book. It felt good just to be close and to relax with him. All in all, it made me feel like maybe, just maybe, there was a chance that love didn't have to end horribly.

I had just begun a new chapter when Peeta's head snapped to attention.

“What?” I demanded as I strained to hear whatever it was he had noticed.

“A car just pulled up the drive. Didn't you hear it?” he asked.

“I don't have extra sensitive ears,” I sniffed.

He laughed. “Neither do I.” Cocking his head to the side, he frowned. “Haymitch wasn't planning on coming back today, was he?”

“Not that I know of. Matthew probably just decided to call it a day early,” I guessed.

“I don't suppose you want to make any announcements to my brother today, do you?” he teased. Despite his light tone, I could hear the thread of hope in his voice.

“No,” I said with a sigh. “I think it would be best if we kept this to ourselves.”

He arched a blond brow. “Nola knows,” he declared.

“She does.”

“Then, I am assuming Thresh knows.”

“He does.”

“And surely Rue must, at the very least, suspect something.”

I frowned. “What are you getting at?”

“This is a horribly kept secret,” he said.

“I'd better go see if your brother is joining us up here for dinner,” I suggested, squirming off of the couch.

Peeta smiled. “Of course.”

I hurried down the stairs with the sound of my pulse echoing in my ears. The fact that the whole house, Matthew aside, knew what we had done finally weighed on me. It felt like the house was closing in on me.

As my foot hit the floor in the foyer, I froze. Standing just a few feet away from me was a beautiful blonde woman who I had never seen before. She stared at me as though she were inspecting a butterfly pinned to a board. Letting out a delicate sound of disapproval, she brought her blue-eyed gaze to my own.

“So, you are the famous Miss Everdeen,” she said lightly. “I am Mrs. Trinket, the boys' aunt.”

“Nice to meet you,” I murmured, holding out my hand. “Peeta's told me about you.”

Mrs. Trinket looked at my hand as if I had offered her a rattlesnake. “I'm sure he has.”

The door opened, and two more young women appeared. One was wearing a drab looking maid's uniform, but the other was certainly no servant. Blonde and plump looking, she was the kind of woman you instantly knew was from “good breeding.” She seemed oblivious to my presence and began prattling on, “Effie, you shouldn't have let me sleep the whole way here. My hair is positively a mess.”

“You look lovely, dear,” Mrs. Trinket said, turning on a warm smile. “And I am sure that Miss Everdeen can carry your things to your room while Octavia sets it to rights.”

Finally aware of me, the stranger blushed. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I simply didn't see you there.” She offered a white gloved hand. “I'm Odellia Cartwright, but everyone calls me Delly.”


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

I simply stared at the white, gloved hand stretched before me. For a moment, I think I even forgot how to breathe. How could this be Delly? How could she be here? And why? I eventually took her hand, but I couldn't force myself to smile at this woman. She may look innocent, but I knew that this was the woman who had helped drive Peeta into hiding. It would have been bad enough had the infamous Aunt Effie appeared alone, but the nerve that it took to bring _her_ along was unbelievable.

“I've heard from Effie that Peeta was singing your praises in his last letter. I am sure you two are quite close. It's wonderful that he has had someone with him,” she blathered on obliviously.

“Yes, it would be horrible for him to be all alone,” I ground out.

Delly's smile faltered, but she managed to paste it back on. “Yes, it would have been.”

“You can ask Miss Everdeen all about her duties later, Delly. She should really get your things upstairs while we go see Peeta,” Effie cut in haughtily.

I clenched my teeth. “He hasn't been feeling well. I should let him know you're here.”

“It's nothing serious, is it?” Effie asked with a concerned frown. I almost felt bad for hating her as much as I did.

“Nothing that a little rest won't help,” I assured her. “You should wait in the parlor while I speak to him. I am sure Thresh and Rue will be more than happy to help you get settled in.”

My head was reeling as I climbed the steps. I still couldn't believe that they were here. It was like something out of a nightmare. The traitorous part of my heart grieved for what I would lose if they stayed, but I couldn't let myself think about that. My hands shook on the door knob as I opened it.

“Well, what brought him home?” Peeta asked when he heard me enter. He was still sitting on the couch, looking content with his world. I hated to bring it crashing down.

“It wasn't Matthew,” I managed to say.

He frowned. “I didn't think Haymitch would be back so soon.”

“He's not.”

“Quit playing games, Katniss. Who's down there?”

I closed my eyes, and forced the words out. “Your Aunt Effie and Delly Cartwright decided to surprise you.”

“What?” he demanded.

“Your Aunt Effie and Delly Cartwright are downstairs,” I repeated, trying to sound calmer than I was. Despite her kind appearance, I still wanted to snatch every bit of blonde hair out of Delly's head for what she had done to Peeta.

“I can't believe that she would bother to come here,” he murmured, still in shock. “Her father said that she was too disgusted by me to even want to see what I'd become.”

My stomach clenched. I was tempted to gut Delly the same way as the deer that I used to bring to Sae's. But I couldn't, so I did the one thing I could think of to show him that there was nothing “disgusting” about him.

I kissed him. I channeled every word I wanted to say, every endearment that I knew of into my lips against his. My hands clawed deeply into his shoulders and his encircled my waist, pulling me tighter. His lips were soft and desperate. Letting my tongue slip past his lips, I told him how much I wanted him in a way much louder than words. He was the one I wanted to be with. He was the one I had fallen in love with. Even though I couldn't voice these things, he needed to know them. I expected him to pull away when the kiss was over, but he laid his head on my shoulder instead.

“Someday soon we really need to talk about all of this, but I honestly don't think I can do that today,” he murmured.

“Do you want me to try and send her away?” I offered.

“No, not if Aunt Effie brought her. You'd have a war of your very own on your hands if you tried,” he said with a sad smile. “What do you think of Effie so far?”

“She's... different,” I answered, swallowing hard. “I think she has just about managed to put me in my place. I don't even want to know what she's going to say when she finds out where my room is.”

Peeta's brow creased with anger. “It's none of her God damned business. You aren't a servant, Katniss. I won't let her treat you like one.”

I didn't say anything in reply to that. Despite his insistence, I didn't see how he could stop her. Effie Trinket was the kind of woman who plainly illustrated the difference between “us” and “them.” I supposed that the time I had spent alone with Peeta had skewed my understanding of it, but I could see it more clearly now. I was still just a dirt-poor country girl. I didn't belong in their world or even in this house. For all the pretty words they used for me and my place here, Effie was the only one who got it right. I was just a servant in this house. The realization stung.

“Do you want me to tell them you're sleeping?” I asked.

He shook his head. “I suppose you might as well send them up.”

When I made it back downstairs, I found Effie seated primly on the sofa while Delly paced and tugged at her hair, which was now sticking out like blades of straw from a bale. Effie noticed me first, and raised a golden brow. “How is he feeling?” she asked.

“He's doing fine. He's expecting you in the upstairs parlor,” I said plainly. “I can show you the way, if you like.”

“Are you sure you don't want to come up with me, darling?” Effie asked Delly sweetly.

Delly bit her lip. “I think it's best if you talked to him first.”

I led Effie back toward the stairs with the blonde just a half step behind me. From the corner of my eye, I could see her studying me. Her pensive glances made me uncomfortable, but I didn't want to acknowledge them just yet. I wasn't quite sure what to make of her, either. On the surface, she seemed to care about Peeta, but I couldn't reconcile that with the fact that she brought Delly.

Before I reached for the rail, Effie grabbed my hand. “You don't need to come in with me. There are a great many things I wish to say to my nephew privately. You understand, don't you?”

“All right,” I agreed reluctantly.

From the hallway, I could see that Delly was pacing again. The kind thing to do would be to go try and talk to her, but I certainly wasn't feeling kind. I wanted nothing to do with her. Instead of going out the front and walking by the parlor, I ducked back through the kitchen and slipped outside.

It was a beautiful day...a fact that I thought was just downright unfair. I wished it was cold and raining, because then I would have had a reason to feel chilled to the bone. A sick feeling had settled into my stomach that I just couldn't shake. As I walked the paths that were now as familiar to me as the back of my hand, I couldn't keep my mind from drifting back to Peeta and what Delly had done to him. I wanted to scream with frustration, but it was more than just anger at Delly. There was something else that hurt me even more. I was afraid that he might forgive her. And what then? I was scared, jealous, and angry all at once. It was like my heart wanted to explode in my chest.

I had almost made it to the berry patch when I heard a voice call out from behind me.

“Miss Everdeen! Please, wait!” Delly was nearly running to catch up, her skirt hiked up in her gloved hands. I stopped and let her close the gap between us. By the time she reached me, she was out of breath and her straw-like hair was sticking out at strange angles from her head.

“Did you need something?” I asked bluntly.

“I needed to speak to you,” she said looking at her shoes.

“You should be upstairs apologizing to Peeta, not running after me,” I told her, trying and failing to keep the venom from my voice. “Isn't that why you came?”

She nodded. “It is. You really have no idea how much I have to ask forgiveness for.”

“I have an idea.”

“No, you don't. I was terrible,” she cried as tears began to form in her eyes. “I didn't even question it when Daddy said that Peeta had called of the wedding and didn't want to see me. I should have...”

“Don't lie to me!” I shouted her off. “I know that you were the one to cancel the wedding.”

“But I wasn't! Don't you see? I wasn't and neither was Peeta. My father had objected to the match from the start. When Peeta was injured, he took the opportunity to keep us apart,” she explained. “I tried to go speak to Peeta about it so that I could change his mind, but by the time I managed to get a chance to visit him, he had already left Philadelphia. It wasn't until Effie wrote me that I had any idea what my father had done.”

I snorted. “So you expect me to believe that you are completely innocent?”

“Not completely,” she whispered. Tears now fell freely down her cheeks. I was still wary, but my gut instinct told me that Delly wasn't lying. I didn't want to believe that she wasn't to blame. If I believed her, that meant I should give Peeta up. God, I wanted to hate her, but at that moment, I couldn't.

“If you wanted to know why he ended it, did you even write him a letter?” I asked.

She wiped at her eyes and shook her head. “Because he wouldn't be able to read it, and I was too embarrassed to think that someone else would be reading it to him. I know I was being childish.”

“And why did you follow me out here anyway? Did you want me to help you get back in his good graces?”

As if she sensed that the ice was melting between us, she gave me a frail smile. “You have no idea how much I miss him. Peeta and I have been friends since we were little children. I can't imagine the rest of my life without him.”

“I need some time to think,” I managed to say despite the tightness in the chest.

Once I was alone, Gale's face appeared in my mind for the first time in days. I knew what it was like to lose a friend. Though I didn't want to empathize with her, I did. Had Gale lived, I wouldn't have taken separation from him lightly, either. I understood Delly more than I wanted to. Perhaps I would even come to like her. The problem was that I couldn't picture my life without Peeta, either, and somehow, I didn't think there was enough room in the house for both of us. One of us would have to go.

Ironically, I had finally come to admit to myself that I loved Peeta. I loved him so much and so deeply that it was hard to breathe at times. In a little over a month, he had managed to breach the walls that I had spent years building. How could I not fall for him? In a situation when most men would shut out the world and see nothing but their own pain, he cared about how I felt about things between us. He was at his most patient and sweetest when I needed it the most. How could I not fall for him? And just when I dared to hope that just maybe things could work between us, Delly appeared like a sign from God that we weren't meant to be.

I took my time on the way back to the house. The long walk hadn't cleared my head at all. If anything, I was more troubled than when I had set out.

As soon as I came to the back door, I knew that things were not going well. Rue was setting a silver service together with a frown on her face, and Nola was peeling potatoes so briskly that I worried she might catch her fingers.

“How are our guests?” I asked wryly.

Nola snorted. “Not here a whole two hours and already barking orders like she owns the place! Ain't at all ashamed for just showin' up here with that hussy taggin' along neither.”

“Well, things might not be what they seemed with Delly,” I told her, trying not to sound so glum. “Are they still with Peeta now?”

“No,” Rue answered with a sigh. “I helped that uppity maid of Mrs. Trinket's unpack for both of them, and then Mrs. Trinket said she wanted to take some time to rest in her room with a pot of tea. Mr. Peeta won't even talk to that Miss Cartwright. He sent her off with one heck of a fit. I bet she up in her room cryin' now.”

All of a sudden, one of the bells on the wall sprang to life. I hadn't noticed their existence until that moment. Neither Peeta nor Matthew had used them since I had been there, and I certainly had never used them.

“Rue, you best get that tray up to Mrs. Trinket before that woman come down here and start more trouble,” Nola warned.

Rue hustled out of the room, and I sank down into one of the chairs. “Does anyone know how long they'll stay?”

“Good Lord only knows. Gives me something else to pray about at church, I guess.”

I laughed. “Did you need help with dinner?”

“I ain't that desperate yet, child,” she teased. “Besides, shouldn't you go check on Mr. Peeta?”

“I should,” I agreed lifelessly.

Nola sighed and set aside her work. “You just nervous that things might have changed now that they in the house.”

I nodded.

“That boy loves you like I ain't never seen before aside from my Jeremiah. He never loved that girl upstairs as anything other than a sister, and there is no sin in that. You can't let her scare you off,” she said as she reached out to push a wayward piece of hair from my forehead.

“And what if she is better for him than I am?”

Nola shook her head. “You brought him back to life when I was about ready to give that boy up for a goner. You don't realize what you're worth, child. It's time now to hold up your head high and not let anyone push you around. Now, you get your scrawny behind up them stairs, and take care of that boy before I carry you up them, you hear?”

Taking Nola's words to heart, I climbed the stairs with my chest still feeling too tight. She had been right about one thing; I needed to see how Peeta was doing. I should have gone up sooner, but it would have been a lie to say that Delly's professed innocence had thrown me for a loop. Heck, the whole day had shifted my little world on its axis. My once small, isolated life was filling up at record speed.

When I entered the parlor, I found Peeta with his head leaned against the window pane. “I knew you'd be back soon,” he muttered as I touched his shoulder.

“How bad was it?” I asked softly.

He shrugged. “Aunt Effie is and always will be a force unto herself. In most things, she means well. Still, I can't say I’m glad that she's here or that she brought Delly.”

“Did she tell you about Mr. Cartwright?”

“She did.”

“And?”

“And what, Katniss? Forgive her? Tell her that it’s all right that she never even bothered to come ask me if it was true? Things can't go back to the way they were before,” he said with a wry chuckle. “Though, I am sure that it would be easier for you if they did.”

“I don't want to go back, Peeta,” I told him honestly. “I want to see this through. You've made it so far... _We've_ made it so far that I know we can survive this, too.”

“I love you, Katniss Everdeen.” My heart clenched with those words. I opened my mouth to speak, but he held up a hand. “I didn't say that to force you into saying it back. I just wanted you to know, and for now, that's enough.”

I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and kissed his neck. “What do you need from me?”

“If I said you in my bed again, would you do it?” he teased with a wide grin.

“If your ex-fiance, your aunt, your loyal servants, and possibly your brother weren't all in the house at once, I might,” I replied with a laugh.

“And what if I asked for something else?” The smile had slipped from his face and he was straining to see me.

“Anything,” I assured him.

“Don't say that until you hear what I want,” he warned.

“So then ask me.”

He sighed. “Usually, talking to my Aunt Effie is an experiment in the inane. She doesn't really seem to think of much besides fashion and who is and isn't en vogue currently, but today she surprised me with a good idea. You see, there is this school in Pittsburgh...”

“A school?”

“For blind children,” he amended. “Before coming out here, Effie spoke to the headmaster, Dr. Aurelius. They normally don't offer services to adults, but given a large donation, they would make an exception. I could learn all of the things that I should have learned months ago. I could read again. Who knows, maybe I could even find a way to be productive with my days.”

The longing in his voice gave me chills. He wanted this so badly that I could feel it the whole way down to my bones. After the way things had gone with walking, I knew what this really would mean to him. A measure more of independence could change everything for him, but I knew what he was asking me.

“And you want me to go with you,” I murmured.

He nodded. “Think about it. You don't have to choose now. Effie is planning on making this a two week long visit, and I will probably just go back with her when she leaves.”

Before we could discuss the topic farther, a cacophony of raised voices sounded from downstairs. Peeta chuckled. “And now we know that Matthew has made it home.”

“Should I go break it up?”

“No, just expect a spectacular show over the next few days. Ol' Mattie-boy has never been much for surprises... or Aunt Effie, for that matter. Just be glad that I give you an excuse to eat up here tonight, and that Aunt Effie wouldn't dream of eating anywhere but the dining room,” he explained, still laughing.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chelzie is the most wonderful beta in the history of fandom....this is a fact. I am just lucky to have her as my beta. Thank you so much for all your hard work!

Chapter 15

Given the way Peeta's luck had been holding up, I should have known that we wouldn't end up staying in seclusion that night. Matthew showed up in the parlor not very long after the initial argument had begun below. He was so out of sorts from the whole thing that Peeta demanded to go downstairs for dinner, despite mine and Matthew's arguments. I think he saw himself as the means of keeping peace in the house. I was much less optimistic, but when he asked me to go get Thresh to carry him down, I didn't argue. At least he wasn't determined to make his own way down the stairs.

We were seated at the table before Effie and Delly appeared. The pair had both changed; Effie into a sparkling blue gown that was far too formal and Delly into a more understated pink frock. I felt like a crow in comparison to a peacock, but looked away quickly to hide my disgust. Matthew rose as they approached the table and pulled a chair out for his aunt, and then hesitantly did the same for Delly. He still didn't look happy with either of them.

“I see you don't feel the need to dress for dinner in this rustic setting,” Effie drawled as she noted our clothing.

“There is no one here to impress,” Peeta said with a fake grin. “Unless you count the trees, that is.”

“You must know better, boys. One doesn't dress for dinner to impress others. It is simply the proper thing to do,” she admonished them.

Matthew sighed. “Well at any rate, you look lovely, ladies,” he said before his eyes darted to me. “And of course, so do you, Katniss. You always do.”

“That shade of dark green suits you quite nicely,” Delly chimed in. “I envy your coloring that you can wear such shades.”

“Thank you,” I said, shifting uncomfortably in my seat.

Effie narrowed her eyes at me, belying the smile she still wore. “I find that dark shades are a good color for domestic help. I am sure it hides dirt well.”

“Katniss’ position here is far more than just domestic help,” Peeta ground out defensively. “She means more to me than you could possibly know. So if you intend to insult her, you can just cut this visit short and have your driver take you back now.”

I had to hold back a groan of horror at what had just happened. My stomach lurched because I knew that there would be no real going back after this. In his attempts to protect me, he had given away our secret. All eyes were on me. Delly looked almost stricken, while Effie looked as though she may faint at the idea that a Mellark would lower himself to someone of my standards. Matthew, though, gave me a measured gaze that I couldn't read. I could tell that there would be a discussion between us later, but for now, he simply shook his head and let out a cold laugh.

“Your wording leaves something to be desired, Peeta. I almost mistook your intent, and have been here all along to see how much Katniss' help has meant to you. I don't think you can expect our guests to realize just how much assistance she gives you in your condition,” he told his brother in a flat, emotionless voice.

Only Delly looked as though she was entertaining the possibility that Matthew was telling the truth. Effie was still glaring at me. She snorted haughtily. “For a moment, I almost expected an announcement of sorts. Peeta, darling, don't scare me so.”

The rest of the meal was silent as the grave. At the very second the mostly full plates were cleared, Effie announced that she was quite fatigued from the trip and Delly followed on her heels like a wounded puppy clinging to the one person who showed her affection. In that moment, I felt sorry for her, but I was more concerned for my own well-being. Matthew's usually kind brown eyes had lost all warmth. For the second time in under a week, I knew that I was under his scrutiny. I waited for him to say something as Rue began to take away the plates, but instead, he merely got up and walked away without a word.

As soon as we were alone, Peeta buried his head in his hands. “I think I’ve just made our situation a bit more delicate.”

“You don't say?” I remarked baldly.

“I shouldn't have lost my temper and spilled the beans, but can you honestly tell me that it wouldn't just be a relief to have it all out in the open?” he asked with a thread of hope in his voice.

I knew what he wanted me to say. He wanted to hear that it would be wonderful for us to be together without sneaking around, that I couldn't wait to announce to the world that I was in love with him. Much like the other words he wanted me to say, I just couldn't say them. I wasn't happy that everyone in the house pretty much knew that we were lovers. It meant that my place in the house was becoming more and more precarious by the day. Why didn't Peeta see that?

“There's been a lot going on lately. I don't think I can handle much more,” I whispered.

He nodded sadly. “I understand.”

He didn't, I knew, but I couldn't get into that argument that day.

I stayed in my own room that night. As I laid awake, I stared at the door that separated us once more. Only the night before, I had felt that by walking through that door that I could make things better between us. Now, I saw it for what it really was – another barrier between us. I couldn't gather the courage to open it again. Though we were already past the point of no return, I knew that if I went to him I would only end up spilling out all of the fears and insecurities that plagued me. I would beg him not to go to Pittsburgh, to send Effie and Delly away, to stay here with me and let things stay the way they were. I couldn't let that happen, so I simply stared at the lovely pattern of the wood grain until the first light of dawn crept through my window.

Dressing in the only light colored skirt and blouse I had, I stared at myself in the mirror. Effie had been wrong; it didn't matter how dark or light my clothes were, I still looked like “domestic help.” The dresses that had seemed so fussy and fancy when Doc had bought them for me now looked like rags. It wasn't that I longed to wear the kind of finery that Effe and Delly were accustomed to – I had no intention of ever wearing that many frills or that much lace – but I couldn't help seeing the vast differences between us. Even my tanned face and rough hands told the story of the kind of life I led. I wondered if Peeta would still think I was the prettiest girl he had ever seen.

“Katniss? Are you awake?” Peeta called from his room.

My words caught in my throat, but I manage to push them through. “I'm coming.”

He was sitting on the edge of the bed with his shirt already off when I came in. The sun lovingly caressed the shoulders that I had been aching to see not all that long ago. My fingers tingled with the memory of the feel of him, but I was hesitant to make that move. Instead, I pushed his chair up beside him.

“Did you sleep all right?” I asked nervously.

“You know damn well that I didn't,” he said with a frown. “I was hoping that you would come to me.”

“Peeta...” I began.

“I know why you didn't,” he interrupted me.

“We have to think rationally about this. I don't think either of us wants your brother to send me packing,” I told him, hoping to make him see my side of things.

His eyes grew large with hurt. “And you think I would just let him? That I am not man enough to stand my ground? You won't trust me or let me try to protect you. Sometimes, I wonder what good I am to you at all.”

“We keep having this conversation,” I said, trying to force away the tears that were threatening to fall.

“Because you keep running away every time I get too close to you.”

I sank down on the bed beside him. “I just don't see how this is all going to work out. You and I are from two very different worlds. I'm not Delly. I don't fit in with your family.”

“You don't need to fit in with them, Katniss. Just me,” he told me softly. He reached out in search of my hand, and I entwined my fingers with his. “I'm never going back to the way things were before. I can't and I don't even know that I want to.”

“So we'll just hide here?” I asked.

He shook his head. “I don't want to hide. I want to start a life for us here. What would you say if I told you that I was thinking of trying to take over some of the management at the mine?”

“The mine?”

“I was thinking about it after Effie told me about the school for the blind. If I could read braille and find a good secretary, I could help take some of the load off of Matthew. Besides, I like the idea that I could be useful again. It's not what I had planned to do with my life, but I’m learning that just because something wasn't part of the plan doesn't mean that it won't be worthwhile,” he explained with a small smile. “I keep hoping that if I build a life here, you will want to be part of it. I want you with me, Katniss. I'd be lying if I told you that I didn’t want to marry you.”

“Peeta, I...” My words trailed off, and my heart lodged in my throat. He made it sound so easy, so attainable. In my mind's eye, I could see us living out our life here together. I wanted to believe in it. I wanted to be with him so badly that the feeling was almost taking over, but I was so scared. Finally, I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. “I'll go with you to Pittsburgh.”

He smiled, and leaned in to kiss me. “I was hoping you were about to agree to being my wife, but I suppose it’s a step in the right direction.”

The morning was rather uneventful that day. Matthew left for the mine at his usual time, and both of our “guests” rang for breakfast in their rooms, leaving Peeta and I to our own devices. After eating in the parlor again, we curled up on the couch and went back to reading as we had the day before. Everything seemed so very normal on the surface. In fact, I don't doubt that Peeta believed that I was all right with the way things had worked out. My mind, however, was every bit as frantic as it had been for the last day. It was like I was a pendulum, swinging from one conclusion to another. I couldn't seem to find a place for my thoughts to rest. What was wrong and what was right no longer seemed clear to me. It was like there were a hundred voices calling for me in a hundred directions.

Just after I finished the third chapter, a gentle knock came at the door. Instinct told me that it was Delly – I assumed that Effie wouldn't have been so subtle. I found her standing at the door, tugging on her braid and looking at me with bloodshot eyes.

“I was hoping to sit with Peeta for a while, if that’s all right,” she whispered nervously.

“Ask him, not me,” I replied with a shrug, and turned to Peeta. “You've got a visitor.”

“I'd like to talk to you for a while,” she said as she slid inside the room, careful to avoid making eye contact with me. If I had hoped the night before that she was naive enough to believe Matthew, I had been mistaken. I was obviously the other woman, as far as she was concerned. In a way, I was.

“I suppose that would be alright,” he answered reluctantly.

“I'll be back up in a while,” I announced, making my exit.

I was almost glad for Delly's arrival. It gave me time to clear my head. I slipped out into the hall and almost ran head first into Effie's maid, who had been scurrying down the hall.

“Oh,” she cried, placing a hand to her full breasts. “I am sorry. I didn't see you there.”

“It's all right,” I assured her. “Olivia, wasn't it?”

“Octavia,” she corrected me.

“I'm Katniss.”

Octavia studied me openly for a moment, and I did the same. She was probably a few years older than I was – maybe twenty-five or so – with dark brown hair that was tucked neatly into a bun. Her large green eyes gave her an almost owlish look. Unlike Rue, I felt no real kinship with her upon first meeting. There was just something about her demeanor that told me that she enjoyed working for Mrs. Trinket and all of the perks that came with being a rich woman's maid. Her own assessment of me must have taken her to the same conclusion.

“I'm sure I'll be seeing more of you, but right now, I need to take Mrs. Trinket her fan,” she told me, holding up the accessory as though I needed proof that she was far too busy to be bothered.

I stepped aside and let her pass. As I watched her retreating form go down the hall, I sighed heavily. Rue hadn't been far off when she'd called Octavia “uppity.” Apparently, big city maids were just as snobbish as their mistresses. Still, of the three newcomers, I minded her arrival the least.

It seemed that I wasn't the only one out of sorts that day. When I opened the door to the kitchen, I found Nola scraping a burned loaf of bread out of a pan. She looked up at me, but didn't give her usual warm greeting. “That woman sending you about on her business, too?” she demanded.

“No, I haven't even seen Mrs. Trinket,” I assured her.

“That maid o' hers got me runnin' all over the house for things that I don't even know what she want them for, and now I burned the bread I was making. She'll probably be down complainin' that she can smell it up there. I tell you, even Mrs. Mellark ain't half this bad. Least that one leave us to have a peaceful breath, not like her sister,” Nola fumed, scraping the last of the remains into the trash.

“I thought she was Mr. Mellark's sister,” I mused. I hadn't really seen any resemblance between the women. Mrs. Mellark's stern superiority didn't seem anything like Mrs. Trinket's eccentric snobbery.

Nola snorted. “No, Mr. Mellark comes from plain, old poor folk. That man worked for what he could, and then bought himself a wife to make up the difference.”

“What do you mean?” I asked with a frown. In all the time that I had been in the house, I had never really thought much about the real family dynamics aside from what passed between Peeta and Matthew. Their parents were just shadows that I barely noticed looming over them.

“Mr. Mellark may have been born poor, but he was born smart. He managed to start investing in the railroads by the time he was jus' nineteen. By thirty, he was on his way to becoming a millionaire, but there were some people that wouldn't do business with him cause he didn't have the kind of polish that they like to see on folks. Now Mrs. Mellark, on the other hand, was born to a fine Boston family that used to be real high on the hog. Her Daddy, he drank and gambled just about every cent they had, so he offered up his oldest daughter and influence for a nice injection of cash,” she explained disdainfully. “And then a good five years later, the man all but drug his younger daughter down the aisle when he married her off to a man forty years older than her. The two of them may have solved part of their problems by getting hitched, but let me tell you, ain't a day goes by that them two don't regret it.”

I swallowed hard. “I guess Mr. Mellark is just as awful as his wife is.”

Nola's eyes softened. “He's no saint, but he loves those boys.”

“He sure shows it. I haven't heard Peeta even mention him,” I scoffed.

“Some people don't know how to forgive themselves when things go wrong, so they run away and hide.” She turned her back to me and started collecting ingredients. “Now, I got to get this bread put together, girl, and you got things you need to be doing, too.”

I sighed and reluctantly got to my feet. “Where is Rue?” I wondered aloud, noting her absence.

“That maid darn near had her in tears, so I sent her to go pick some berries for a pie...told her to make sure she took her time to inspect all of them before she brought back bad ones,” she answered slyly.

I took my time going back upstairs. Facing Peeta again meant facing the questions that hung in the air between us. By the time I managed to gather my courage to do it, I heard laughter ringing out of the parlor. The door was part way open and I could hear Delly's voice telling an animated story about someone they both must know. She spotted me and stopped the tale.

“Oh, Katniss, I was just telling Peeta that I thought you would be back soon,” she said with a warm smile. She touched his arm ever so lightly. “It looks like I won our bet.”

He laughed. “And just how am I supposed to pay my debt? I don't think I can climb Mrs. Penworth's fence to steal you roses anymore.”

“I am sure you'll find something for me,” she teased lightly.

“Did you want me to come back later?” I asked flatly.

“Of course not,” Peeta answered quickly.

Despite the assurance that I was wanted, I soon found myself sitting silently in the chair across from them as they chatted about places and people that I had never known. There was a chemistry between them that was undeniable. In fact, I hadn't heard Peeta laugh so much in the entire time I had known him as he did that day. I didn't want to admit that I was jealous, but seeing them so obviously happy together struck a chord. When I had accused him of wanting to hide that morning, I hadn't realized that I was the one hiding. So long as we were tucked away in our little world, I didn't have to share him with his family or anyone at all. The revelation made me a bit sick to my stomach, and I must have let the emotion show.

Delly gave me a concerned look. “Are you all right, Katniss? You look pale all of a sudden.”

“I'm fine. Just a headache,” I lied.

“Maybe you should lie down for a while,” she suggested. “I had planned to visit with Peeta for the day, and I am sure that if he should need anything, either the servants or I would be able to handle it.”

“I can manage on my own for a day if you aren't feeling well,” Peeta said softly.

I nodded. “I think I will lie down,” I agreed.

Thankfully, I made it back to my room before the tears fell. I knew that I had lost something very special when Delly arrived, and I mourned the loss of it with all of my heart. Pulling my knees to my chest, I curled into a ball and tried to imagine what it would be like to have Peeta tell me that he had realized that it was Delly he really needed and not me. I forced myself to view it all in stunning clarity. It would be easier when the time came if I was prepared. I couldn't let myself be taken off guard by it. If I did, I knew that losing him would kill me.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thanks goes to Chelzie who is the best beta and friend that a girl could ask for.

Chapter 16

A sound woke me from a near dreamless sleep that night. My eyes fluttered open, and I sat up in bed, straining to hear whatever it was again. There was a slow creaking noise coming from the other room. I frowned. It almost sounded like Peeta's chair as it moved, but I had put it along the wall where I usually had. There was no way he could have gotten to it. Unless... Before I could ponder the question too deeply, the door cracked open.

“Katniss, are you awake?” Peeta called through the bathroom door.

My heart leapt into my throat. “What are you doing?”

“Well, you weren't going to come to me,” he said.

The door opened the rest of the way, and he pushed himself into the room carefully. I could see his silhouette and not much else in the light of the moon. I knew that he probably couldn't see at all, but I felt trapped. Helping him would mean inviting trouble.

“And you think that just because you are here that something will happen?” I asked, trying to sound less nervous than I actually was. I knew that if he managed to make his way to my bed that I would cave like a house of cards.

“No, I am here because I love you that I wanted to talk to you. I didn't come here just for that,” he argued, still slowly moving forward. “You've been distant since this afternoon. Even Matthew noticed that you barely ate.”

“I'm just not feeling well.”

His hands stilled on his wheels. “Liar,” he scoffed. “You're so jealous that it's eating you alive.”

“What did you expect?” I cried.

“That you'd ask me how I felt rather than assume. Delly said that your eyes turned icy the minute you walked back into the room. She knew the same moment that I did. How can you doubt me?” he asked softly.

“You deserve someone who is like you,” I managed to say. The words felt sour as I spoke them, but I forced myself to continue. “I'll never be the kind of woman that you want...that you can be proud of.”

“Katniss, I love you. Of course I am proud of you! You are the strongest, most courageous woman I know. Who wouldn't be proud to have you as their wife?” he asked, shaking his head as though the idea was beyond him.

I sighed and hugged my knees to my chest. “I'm not refined like Delly or your Aunt Effie.”

“I don't love Delly, and I certainly am not going to marry my Aunt Effie,” he scoffed.

“But she does love you...”

“Like a brother,” he interrupted me. “The same as I love her like a sister. I never felt about her the way I feel about you. She knows that I love you and respects that. You're just using Delly as a reason to end this.”

“Am not,” I countered childishly.

“I wish you would just tell me what scares you. You keep telling me that my disability isn't what’s keeping you from me, and I have to take that on faith. Can't you give me just a little faith in return?” he asked. His voice was so tender that I felt my heart breaking in my chest.

I wanted to believe him. I wanted to think that nothing would come between us, but life had taught me a very different lesson. Fairy tales were nothing more than stories that people told to make children believe that there were happy endings. And what about all that Peeta had been through? Didn't he understand that things weren't guaranteed to go how we wanted them to, no matter how many promises were made?

“But what if things go wrong? What then?” I asked, voicing the fears that threatened to tear me apart.

“Exactly what you've been pushing me to do this whole time – we work on ways to make it better. I am not going to give up on us,” he vowed.

I closed my eyes and laid my forehead on my knees. I wanted Peeta to crawl into bed with me, and hold me until my chest stopped hurting. And then it finally occurred to me – I _did_ trust Peeta. I had more faith in him than I had ever had for anyone. It was my own self that I couldn't trust, but he trusted me. Peeta saw things in me that I hadn't dared to believe existed.

“I love you,” I said after a long silence. “I shouldn't, but I do.”

Edging himself closer, his smile was nothing short of radiant. In the dim light, I could see the pure joy spreading across his face at the same moment I felt myself breaking apart with dread. I had never said those words before to someone who wasn't family – barely even said them to Prim. The feeling that followed them wasn't all bad. I was terrified that I had let myself become someone that I wasn't, but at the same time, I felt oddly alive. Peeta looked so very happy that it warmed me from the inside. He made me want to believe in happy endings.

“Is there anything in my way?” he asked.

“Nothing. You're about five feet away from the bed,” I told him.

“Good, because I am going to show you just how happy you make me, Katniss Everdeen, and I'd hate to ruin it by crashing into something,” he said with a laugh.

“And just what are you going to do?”

“I am going to make love to you until you agree to marry me,” he announced proudly.

I frowned. “Can't you just accept that I love you and leave it at that for now?”

“No,” he replied shaking his head. “I am going to take advantage of you at a weak moment and claim my victory. I'll fight dirty if I have to.”

“Peeta, I don't think...” My words trailed off as he made it to the bed and pulled himself onto it in one fluid motion. On instinct, I touched his hand as he reached out for me.

Pulling my face to his, he kissed me so deeply that it took the breath right out of me. His lips took me by surprise. He had always been so gentle before that I never imagined he could possess me the way he did as his tongue slid over mine. Instantly, I felt a surge of heat between my thighs that quickly turned into a throbbing need as he held me firmly against him.

He smiled as he released me. “That's just it; I'm not letting you think about it anymore. Take off your nightgown.”

I obeyed without a fight. Tossing the fabric aside, I felt a rush of desire run through me. I loved this side of Peeta. No matter the turmoil in my mind, I wanted him to make love to me again. I gripped at the shoulders of his shirt and began to tug, but he pushed me away.

“Not yet,” he murmured huskily. “Lay back for me.”

“What?” I asked, in confusion.

“Just do it. I've wanted to try this with you for a very long time,” he told me.

With butterflies in my stomach, I did as he asked. Peeta positioned himself between my thighs and began to touch me gently. He teased my clitoris with his thumb before sliding a finger deep inside of me. I had to hold back my cry of pleasure as he started to caress me. “God, I love touching you. It's like nothing I had ever imagined,” he whispered. “But I want more.”

“More?” My voice was so shaky and weak that barely recognized it as my own.

“More,” he agreed. Without warning, he pulled his fingers from me and began to taste them, as though he were licking the frosting from a cake. The sight of him tasting me was both horrifying and exhilarating. “You taste so good. I need even more.”

Before I could question exactly what he meant by more, he leaned forward, letting his fingers trail up my thighs until they found what they were looking for, and then began to lick. I had never imagined such a thing was even possible, but it sent me to one shattering high after another. His tongue explored every inch of me – from the very sensitive mound to my dripping wet entry, he left nothing unloved. I wanted him to stop and push himself inside of me; but at the same time, I wanted him to continue kissing me forever. Just before I reached my full climax, he pulled away and lifted himself up between my thighs. His lips crushed against mine as he guided himself in.

My body tightened around him, welcoming him deeper inside of me. My hips arched up to meet him. It was as if my body knew better than I did that we belonged together. Instinct took over where my mind would have interfered, and I held nothing back from him. We had already gone past the point of no return. I let my body guide me to what I would have let myself miss out on. He brought me to one dazzling high after another, and didn't stop until my whole body quaked with pleasure.

In the afterglow, I laid beside him with my head on his shoulder. His heart was still beating wildly under my ear, echoing the pace of mine.

“I love you,” he whispered as he kissed the top of my head. “Be my wife, Katniss. Let me spend the rest of my life trying to make you happy.”

Even as little as hours ago, his words would have sent me into a panic, but I couldn't fight it anymore. Consequences be damned, I couldn't run away forever. I didn't want to spend my life alone and broken. I wanted to be with Peeta.

“All right,” I said softly.

He bolted upright. “Do you mean it?”

“I do. I'll marry you, Peeta. I didn't want to love you, but now that I do, I can't stop hoping that things will work out for us. I just hope you don't regret marrying me,” I told him, biting at my lip. 

“I won't regret it, and neither will you. We'll find a way to be happy, I know we will,” he vowed earnestly.

“But I don't want to live in the city. Promise me that we'll come back here after you're done in Pittsburgh.”

He wrapped his arms tighter around me. “Tell me not to go, and I won't. We can stay here. I'll find a way to manage on my own. Just tell me what you want.”

“No,” I answered firmly. “We have to go. You need this. And I need to face your world at some point or another. Why not get it over with?”

“It won't be as bad as you think it will be,” he assured me.

“Right,” I drawled.

He let out a yawn. “You'll see. But perhaps, for now, I should go back to my own bed before anyone finds out I was here. As much as I want to marry you as soon as possible, I don't want there to be anyone forcing you down the aisle.”

I cocked my head to the side. “And just how did you make it in here? I remember sliding the chair against the wall.”

“I had to crawl the whole way across the room, and it wasn't very fun,” he explained with a chuckle, as though it had been nothing at all. Only then did it occur to me how wrong it was to move the chair away from the bed. I had been taking his source of mobility out of his reach without ever thinking about it.

“I'm sorry,” I said with a frown. “I never really thought...”

“I know,” he cut me off. “You don't have to explain. I never really thought about it, either. Until recently, the idea of moving about on my own seemed pretty farfetched. From now on, though, I would appreciate it if you could leave the chair where I can reach it.”

“Of course,” I agreed.

The morning light came sooner than I had wanted it too. After helping Peeta back to his room, I spent the rest of the night lying awake. I was going to marry Peeta. I would be Mrs. Peter S. Mellark, the wife of a wealthy man. Katniss Everdeen, poor girl, would be gone forever. But what did that really mean? Even at my most doubt riddled moments, I couldn't think that he would ever ask me to stop being who I was. Peeta encouraged me to wear trousers and speak plainly. He loved me for who I was, much the same as I loved him. Still, things were going to change.

A knock sounded at my door not too long after I had dressed and washed up for the day. I hadn't gone to Peeta yet just because I had wanted to let him sleep a bit. Whoever was knocking, I wasn't looking forward to talking to them.

“Come in,” I called reluctantly.

Matthew opened the door with a grim face. “Good morning,” he said, despite his mood.

“Good morning,” I murmured in reply.

“Before I demand to know what my brother's intentions are toward you, Katniss, I have some questions for you,” he announced as he held the door open for me. “If you wouldn't mind coming to the study, that is?”

“But what about Peeta?” I stalled.

“Thresh will handle things from now on.”

My stomach felt like it was full of lead butterflies, flapping their heavy wings against my guts. I followed him because I knew that I didn't have a choice. Though this conversation wasn't happening when I thought it would, I had expected that it would come at some point. Matthew was smart enough to see what was happening just beneath his nose. He led me to the office and gestured to the same seat that I had been in the day that I was interviewed by his mother.

“You've become quite close to my brother,” he said uncomfortably. He adjusted his collar as though it had suddenly become too tight. “Some might even say too close.”

“I didn't plan on any of it.” I tried to explain more, but my mouth felt like it was filled with glue.

“I'm sure you didn't, but it doesn't change the facts. A line has been crossed, Katniss. What do you think we ought to do about it?” he asked.

“I don't know.”

Matthew let out an unintelligible sound and reached for a pen. With a flourish, he signed the paper before him. “Maybe this will clear things up.”

“What is it?” I asked, accepting the slip. I read it before he could answer, and my blood turned cold. “A check for ten thousand dollars?”

“If you agree to leave and never darken our door step again,” he confirmed.

“You think I'm after money?”

His dark eyes were unflinching as they met mine. “Well, aren't you? Don't you think it’s a bit odd that a young woman would want to attach herself to a man with Peeta's disability unless there’s something more she was looking for?”

Rage blurred my vision, and it felt like the room was spinning. Before I even had a moment to think about it, I tore the check to shreds. “You aren't half the man that Peeta is!”

“Katniss...”

“You arrogant bastard! How is it that you can just look past all of the wonderful things that your brother still has to offer and only see what he's missing? I love your brother for who he is – _all_ of him, even his faults. He is kind, giving, smart, and loving...and a thousand things more that I can't even list. Do you really think that no one would want him? You're a fool,” I spat disgustedly.

“You're through as Peeta's nurse, Miss Everdeen,” Matthew said flatly when I was finished. I opened my mouth to say something scathing, but he held up a hand and smiled. “Given the nature of your relationship now, I don't think it's appropriate for you to continue on as an employee. Aunt Effie will act as a chaperone until the wedding.”

“Wedding?” I murmured breathlessly.

“Oh, yes.” He eyed me curiously. “I can't think after your impassioned speech about my brother that you would object to the idea. Besides, no Mellark would take advantage of a woman and not seek to make an honest woman of her. I wouldn't let him do such a thing.”

“How did you find out about us, anyway?” I asked, still trying to grasp the shift that had just taken place.

He smirked. “Really, Katniss, I think after last night the whole town knows...or at least according to Aunt Effie, they do. I didn't hear a blessed thing, but she was pounding on my door this morning to make sure that Peeta would make an honest woman of sweet, innocent Delly.”

“But you knew it was me.”

“I did,” he said with a sigh.

“And you're not upset?”

Matthew steepled his fingers and thoughtfully rested them on his chin. “You're forgetting that my father came from nothing. He worked for everything that he built, and we were merely born into it. I can't hold you accountable for being born poor any more than you could hold it against me that I was born into wealth. You've been good for my brother. I just wanted to be sure that you would stay for the right reasons.”

“Well, I hope you're satisfied,” I grumbled.

“For now,” he agreed. “I'm going to go have a chat with my brother. I've already told Nola to send breakfast upstairs for us while we discuss a few things. She'll set a table for you ladies down here.”

Matthew gave me a quick nod before standing and leaving me to my thoughts. Obviously, he thought the matter was through for the moment. I sat back in the chair with a heavy sigh. It felt like a weight had been lifted from me, but at the same time it only led to more uncertainty. I wanted to be with Peeta – that much I was now sure of – but I couldn't count on everyone to accept us the way that Matthew seemed to. And what was just as alarming was the fact that he seemed so ready to force us to the altar. I'd meant it when I had said that I would marry him, but things were moving so quickly.

I'd had many awkward meals in the dining room of Mellark house since I had arrived, but breakfast that day was perhaps the worst. Delly was just about bouncing with excitement over the wedding that was being planned around me, while Effie still seemed bemused by the whole thing. Though the elder blonde didn't seem opposed to the idea of me marrying into the family, she didn't quite know what to say.

“Well, they can't expect you to marry without the proper preparations,” Effie said primly, once the idea settled a bit.

“I haven't even talked to Peeta about this. Who knows if there will even be a wedding?” I stabbed at my eggs contrarily.

“Of course, there will be a wedding!” Delly cried cheerily. “Peeta loves you so very much. You can't really think he won't want to get married. Oh, maybe he'll even demand you do it today!”

“Absolutely, not,” Effie cut in. “A wedding takes time and planning. Why, I am sure that Katniss doesn't even have a proper dress.”

“So what if I decide to get married in pants,” I snapped. I had the childish need to disagree with Effie just because I could. It really wasn't her fault that I was in this mess, but she wasn’t helping matters.

Delly giggled. “That would be the most outrageous wedding I've ever been to.”

“And it's out of the question!” Effie huffed. “You must have a dress. We'll just have to convince Matthew to give us time to get you properly outfitted when we get to Pittsburgh.”

“But what if I would rather get married here?” I challenged.

Her cheeks turned a bright pink. “Here? In this backwoods nowhere town?”

“It's my home. I'm not going anywhere else to get married.” I crossed my arms over my chest and met her gaze steadily.

“And there is nothing wrong with that,” Delly cajoled. “Your wedding will be lovely. And why don't we see what Octavia can do with the wedding dress that I brought? It was made for me, so it's going to be big enough for two of you, but I am sure she can make something out of it.”

“You brought a wedding dress?” Effie asked with a frown.

The younger woman just shrugged. “I had hoped to make things right with Peeta. If I did that, then I didn't need the big society wedding. But please, don't misunderstand me; I was prepared to marry Peeta because I love him like a friend, and couldn't bear the thought of him being alone. I am happy for both of you.”

“But it was made for you,” I said, dumbfounded by her generosity.

“So I'll order another when the day comes,” she assured me.

I felt a sudden surge of admiration for Delly. Previously, I had been so caught up in what Peeta might have felt for her that I hadn't really considered why he had been friends with her in the first place. She really was a giving person. There was a lot about her to like, and I felt rather bad for having hated her the way I had. She didn't deserve it.

It was nearly noon before I made it back upstairs to see Peeta. Effie kept chattering on about all of the “proper” preparations that we would need to make before we could get married, but I wasn't really going to give the wedding any serious thought until I spoke to him. I ignored her and tried to be nice to Delly as best I could, given the turmoil running through my mind. Finally, I escaped them.

The door to the parlor was open, and I spotted the brothers still seated at the table. Matthew was explaining some aspect of the mine business to Peeta, who was listening with rapt attention. I felt like I was intruding, but gave a gentle knock on the door frame.

“Your lady awaits,” Matthew teased as he got up.

Peeta smiled widely. “I was wondering if I should come rescue you from my aunt's clutches.”

“You should have,” I quipped.

“On that note, I will go see what I can do to control the situation below. Although, I should probably send Aunt Effie up to chaperone the two of you,” Matthew suggested wickedly.

I gave him a stony glare. “That's a little like shutting the barn door after the horses have run off, isn't it?”

Matthew merely chuckled as he made his way from the room.

“I hope you're not upset about how things have come out,” Peeta said once we were alone.

“I'm not sure how I feel about any of this. It's all been so sudden,” I replied as I took the newly open chair. “I wasn't expecting any of this.”

He reached out for my hand and squeezed my fingers. “I thought we'd have a bit more time to go about this, too, but it’s done now. I'm not sorry they all know.”

“So what now?” I asked.

“Well, if you will still have me, I think we ought to plan a wedding. Nothing lavish, just something small before we go to Pittsburgh. I want to introduce you to the rest of my family as my wife, and I don't want anyone else interfering with our lives beforehand,” he explained.

“All right then,” I agreed. “Let's get married.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, a huge thanks goes to Chelzie for all of her hard work.

My life changed, quite literally, overnight. Whereas once I had slow, simple days with Peeta filled with swimming in the lake and reading in the parlor, I found myself caught in a whirlwind of wedding planning. Matthew sent Thresh the whole way to Philadelphia to retrieve some old family heirloom that he insisted on having brought out before the wedding. Effie managed to drag Reverend Undersee out to the house to discuss the duties of married life with us. Delly had enlisted both Octavia and Prim to work feverishly on a dress that I hadn't even seen yet. All in all, it made me wonder if I had made the right choice. It proved to me that my life was never going to be as simple as it once was. I would never be just a poor girl again. 

Prim seemed to take to the changes much better than I did. When I went to town to tell her about the wedding, she had squealed and wrapped herself around me murmuring about how she “just knew it would happen.” After that, Prim, too, was off on the flight of romantic fancy that Delly seemed to be on. She didn't—much to my pride—let it change her own life very much. Matthew all but demanded that she move into Mellark house and give up working for Doc, but she had politely declined. It wasn't very nice, in her opinion, to let down the people who were counting on you. She knew that Mrs. Callahan needed the meager rent she collected and that Doc often needed a steady pair of hands to help. 

In fact, the only person who was as skeptical of all of the wedding hub-bub as I was, was Doc. Haymitch had merely snorted when I told him about the wedding and asked if I was breeding. He didn't offer a single congratulation or word of encouragement. I suppose I shouldn't have expected any different.

Two days after the “proposal,” I woke early enough that I was certain there wouldn't be anyone else about. I dressed in my trousers and slowly crept outside. I needed to get away from the house and everyone who lived there...even myself. The forest embraced me in a way that made me feel like my old self again. There was a peacefulness that made me feel so very connected to the life all around me. I rambled on for what felt like minutes but was more like hours. I walked until I was sure to have blisters, but even the pain didn't diminish the wonderful feeling of being where I belonged. It was the first time in a long time that my thoughts didn't revolve around what was happening at Mellark house. 

I had walked for a long time before I decided to take a seat on a moss covered stone. As I sat there simply enjoying the scent of the forest air, I caught movement before me. My hunter's instincts made me go completely still as I watched a doe make her way through the trees. It was strange, but in my gut, I had the sense that I had seen her before. Though I will never know for certain, I believe that she was the same doe that I had seen the morning after getting word of Gale's death. She looked at me once again and began walking towards where I sat. My breath caught in my lungs as she moved. I had seen a lot of strange things in the woods—animals acting oddly, but nothing like this. And then something even more amazing happened: a fawn trotted out of the underbrush. It was like they were thanking me. 

Something broke the moment. Suddenly the doe's ear's perked up on edge and her sharp eyes scanned the wood. My own eyes did the same. I saw him just as he set his rifle along a fallen tree.

“NO!” I screamed. My voice echoed through the trees, and sent both mother and fawn running for safety.

The hunter stood up and stormed out to greet me.

“Sweet Christ, Everdeen! Just because you don't have to worry about eating don't mean the rest of us don't!” Rory raged as he slung his rifle over his shoulders.

I hadn't seen Rory Hawthorne in two months, not since he'd come to our little shack bearing the grim news. Even in that short time, he'd transformed into a man. Rory had always been the Hawthorne who bore the most resemblance to Gale. He was tall and athletically built, with hair as black as the coal that the men brought up from the depths and eyes that were sharp and pale as a knife's blade. His jaw was the same taut angle and his lips the same determined shape as Gale's had been, making him almost as handsome. Only age separated the two in looks, and one day Rory would bridge that gap.

“I didn't mean to leave you without supper,” I said guiltily. Though, I knew even then that I would never let him harm my doe if I could stop it.

He let out a deep harrumph and turned to walk away.

“How's your mother?” I asked his retreating form.

“She's fine.”

“And the kids?”

“All fine, too.”

Pain cut through my heart, as he continued to walk. Once, I had been almost an honorary sister to Rory and the rest of the Hawthornes. The distance between us was my fault, and I knew it. There had been dozens of times when I could have gone to them and I didn't. I had selfishly cut myself away from them because I couldn't bear the sight of them and the guilt that would have come with it.

“I'm sorry,” I said, rushing to keep up with his pace. “I should have come to see you.”

Rory grunted without stopping.

“I've missed you all. I really have. And I know I should have helped you and your mother with the little ones,” I admitted.

Suddenly, he stopped and faced me, his eyes glittering with anger. “You've missed us? What about my brother? Do you miss Gale while you’re fucking your rich cripple?”

“Leave Peeta out of this!” I spat. “And of course I miss Gale! I will always miss Gale. Just because I'm marrying Peeta doesn't mean that I didn't care about your brother.”

His eyes widened at the news, and I instantly regretted letting my temper get the better of me.

“Gale's body isn't even cold in the grave, and you're playing as Mellark's whore. At least, please have the decency not to speak to me again, because if you do, I may forget that my brother once loved you and say what I am really thinking.” The coldness in his eyes and voice was enough to stop me in my tracks. When he began walking again, I didn't follow.

I made it the whole way back to the house before it really all hit me. The tears came in wracking sobs that left me hanging onto the counter to support myself. It felt like my world had crashed to the ground. I had let myself become cocooned within Mellark house to the point where I had blocked out the world and people that I had known my whole life. Rory's anger made me realize that there was no going back, and the very idea of it ripped my heart in two. I literally felt my knees buckle with grief. Just when I thought I was going to fall, strong arms wrapped around me, and I found myself against a soft bosom. 

"That's right, child. You let it all out," Nola murmured as she rocked me in her arms like an infant.

I'm not sure how long she held me for, but it was certainly the longest I could ever remember allowing anyone to comfort me. There was something about Nola that made it seem all right. It was like her strength was seeping into me, allowing me to let down walls that had been there since I was a child. Somewhere in that time, I began to talk about Gale – about how I loved him so very much but that I could never have married him, and about the guilt I felt for loving Peeta. Hell, I even told her about how I was afraid to end up like my mother. The words just tumbled out of my mouth one right after another. When I was finished, I wiped my eyes and waited for her to say something.

"Well?" I prompted, feeling a bit self-conscious for the first time.

She arched a brow. "Well, what?"

"Aren't you going to tell me I have it all wrong? That I shouldn't feel guilty or that I shouldn't worry about what will happen between Peeta and I?" I asked.

"That's an awful lot of water that you let build up behind that dam, Katniss. And some of it is mighty deep and murky," she said, shaking her head. "Can't nobody see to the bottom of that—nobody but the Almighty, and I got a feelin' that you might not want to talk to him about it all. All I know is that you love more than jus' about anybody I know, and that's why you can't let any of it go."

"So then I should feel guilty?"

Nola pulled out a chair and motioned for me to sit while she began making breakfast. "You're gonna feel how you're gonna feel. I'm not so sure there is a right or wrong to it. You loved that boy in the best way you knew how, and I am sure that he loved you in his way, too. Who is it to say that you loved him wrong? It might not have been the kind of love that would have got you hitched, but it was the kind of love that you had to offer. Don't know a single person alive who can tell their heart what or who to love or even just how much to love. You'll come to terms with that in your own time."

"I was hoping that you'd have better advice than just 'wait for it to work out'," I said glumly.

"The truth ain't always what a person wants to hear," she told me with a chuckle.

"But what about the rest of it? Peeta and the wedding?" I closed my eyes in preparation for what I was about to admit. "I'm scared, Nola."

"Baby, of course you are! You are about to change your life in a way that will shake you right down to your bones. Let me ask you this: do you love him?" she asked.

"I do."

"And do you want to be his wife?" 

"I do, but I'm still scared."

Nola reached for my hand. "Then you need to understand the one thing about love that your Mama never understood; if you love someone so much that you lose yourself, then you don't really understand love," she said. "When you really love someone, you want them to really love themselves, too. You want to see them grow and be whole on their own. To love someone the way they deserve to be loved, you have to love yourself first, or else you will never truly understand what makes your love so special."

“Isn’t true love supposed to answer all of those questions for you?” I asked flatly.

She smiled and shook her head. “Love ain’t simple. Anyone who tells you different is lyin’ to you. Been married twenty years to Jeremiah, and sometimes it still ain’t easy. All I can do is love and trust him.”

“Trust isn’t one of my strongest points,” I muttered as I wiped the last few tears from my cheeks.

“You’ll get there someday.” She pointed toward the door. “But for now, I think you best get out of them boys’ clothes and into a dress before Mrs. Trinket sees you and has herself a heart attack.”

I grinned at the thought of what Effie would do if she saw me wearing my pants. It was almost enough to make me want to march right up to her door and knock. For the last two days, she had been picking at me little bit by little bit over manners and how a woman of my new standing should behave. So far, I kept my annoyance to myself and let her go on, but it was becoming steadily harder. Effie’s overbearing way wasn’t easy to take for someone who had been left to their own devices as long as I had. Every so often, I was tempted to really let loose and let her see just how much of a hoyden I really was. I heeded Nola’s advice, only because I wanted to keep the peace in the house for the sake of everyone else.

As I dressed, I could hear Peeta and Matthew in the next room. With Thresh gone and his refusal to let me continue helping Peeta, Matthew had filled in with my old duties. Whatever they were talking about, it made them both laugh. The rich sound traveled through the walls and made me smile. I hadn’t heard them laughing together in the whole time I’d known them. If anything good had come of the upcoming wedding, it was how it seemed to make Matthew realize that his brother wasn’t quite as hopeless as he had once thought. I was actually a bit surprised by how readily the elder Mellark brother accepted the idea of Peeta becoming involved with the mines. He was already taking measures to make sure that Peeta understood the workings of the mine and all of the duties he would soon be taking on. It was a welcome change to see them both looking to the future.

My newly restored good mood came crashing down mere moments later. From the bottom of the stairs, I heard a racket that made me jump. Something had crashed to the floor, followed by a shrill female voice crying out, “You little thief!”

I raced to the bottom of the stairs just in time to see Octavia backing Rue into a corner. The smaller maid looked so very much like the child that she still in many ways was. Her eyes were round with fear as she pressed her back up against the wall.

“Just what’s going on here?” I demanded.

Taking the opportunity given to her when Octavia looked toward me, Rue bolted to my side. “Mr. Peeta said I could read whatever I wanted from the library, honest!”

“Well, that book was from Mrs. Trinket’s personal collection,” Octavia told me with a sniff. “She left it lying on the end table a few nights ago and it disappeared. I found this little snake with it in the kitchen.”

“I didn’t know that it was hers,” Rue cried. “It had been laying there for a couple days and I thought it was just forgotten so I didn’t see the harm in reading it.”

“Rue always returns books when she is finished, and I am sure it was just an innocent mistake,” I said, trying to keep calm.

“I’ll have to see what Mrs. Trinket says about this,” the city maid said smugly, as if she was determined to see Rue fired.

“Don’t bother,” I ground out, letting my temper seep through. “All you need to know is what I say, and I say that Rue did nothing wrong. Do you really think that even if Effie wants Rue fired that I would let that happen? How dare you assume that I’m not going to have any say in this house! I’m going to be Peeta’s wife; this will be my home, too. I say that Rue stays and that is final. However, if you decide to cross me, I will make sure that you are packing your bags, either alone or with your dear _Mrs. Trinket._ Do I make myself clear?”

Octavia’s mouth opened and closed like a fish lying on the dock. She stared at me for a moment before directing her gaze somewhere behind me. I turned to see what she was looking at and discovered that we were no longer alone. Effie and Delly were on the stairs not ten feet behind me, and Peeta and Matthew were looking down over the railing. And then I noticed Nola peering from around the corner of the dining room. I had just thrown an all-out temper tantrum in front of the whole damn house.

I took a deep steadying breath and faced Effie. I stared right into her eyes, daring her to gainsay me. I expected a fight. Instead, Effie merely quirked a brow towards Rue. “Do you read aloud well?” she asked.

“Y..yes, ma’am, I do,” Rue answered shyly.

“Reading too long gives me a headache, and Octavia isn’t very good at it. Would you, please, meet me in the parlor later today and begin with Act II of _Taming of the Shrew_?” Effie requested haughtily. She made no mention of anything else that had just transpired, seemingly ignoring the scene that just played out.

“Yes, ma’am,” Rue agreed, smiling a bit.

“Two-thirty then. And don’t be late. There is nothing so rude as lateness,” she added.

Octavia’s lower lip quivered. “But Mrs. Trinket…” she began limply.

Effie sniffed and pushed by us both. “Don’t be dramatic, Octavia. Go get my shawl.”

From above, both brothers began chuckling heartily. I glared at the pair, which did as little to Matthew as it did to Peeta. Matthew shrugged, and leaned over to whisper something in Peeta’s ear. Like little boys, the pair grinned widely before going about their business as though they were complete angels. Delly seemed to take some unspoken cue from them and hurried up the steps after them, leaving Rue and I alone.

“You really wouldn’t let her fire me, would you?” Rue asked softly.

I shook my head. “Never. You’ll be here as long as you want to be.”

I took a leave from Peeta’s book that day and had Nola bring my meals up to my room. I felt like a brat asking her to do it, but I wasn’t in the mood to see anyone else that day. I’d had enough. In fact, the only people that I felt like talking to at all weren’t there and never would be again. On a whim, I pulled a piece of paper from the little writing desk. I began writing letters to my father and to Gale. They were long and rambling, filled with all of the confusion and longing in my chest. Once the words were on the paper, I found it a bit easier to breathe. I tossed them into the fireplace and lit them. As I watched the flames lick at the pages, for the first time since agreeing to marry Peeta, I felt real and true hope.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, a huge thanks to Chelzie for being the best beta ever.

Chapter 18

Effie should be listed amongst the miracle workers of our time. She managed a feat that not even Prim’s gentle pleading could; she got me to go to church. The night before, she had pointedly reminded me that as the wife of a Mellark, I was going to be a well-known figure in the community. When that tactic hadn’t worked, she went the more devious route. Peeta, she told me slyly, hadn’t attended service since he had been home. Though I hadn’t openly broached the topic of religion with him, I knew that Peeta had more faith than I did. As Effie had reminded me, it was unlikely that he would go without me, as uncomfortable as he was going out in public. That was enough to make me grudgingly put on my nicest dress and hat. Luckily, I wasn’t going to be the only skeptic in the group.

With Thresh gone, there was no way for us all to ride together to church in just the one car. Matthew had asked Doc to come drive a few of us in his car, and surprisingly he had agreed without much prompting. I think a large part of his agreement lay in that he was curious about Effie, who he had dubbed _“the harridan”_ when I had first told him about her. I should have known that the two of them meeting would be anything but boring.

Haymitch was on time that day, but still looked like he had dressed out of a dirty laundry hamper. His shoes were scuffed, his tie crooked, and his rumpled hat didn’t cover much of his greasy hair—in other words, he looked exactly the way he always did. Effie’s eyes fell on him like a ton of bricks dropped from the roof. She flicked her old fashioned fan in front of her nose, as though she could smell him from her spot on the porch.

“Your majesty,” he greeted her with an embellished bow.

Effie’s eyes widened in anger. “I see the tales of the drunken, buffoon of a doctor my sister told me about weren’t exaggerated,” she said icily.

“Darling, you don’t know the half of it,” he replied with a bark of laughter. Pulling his flask from his vest, he took a long drink, keeping his gaze on Effie. I hadn’t seen Haymitch with this much spark in his eyes in the whole time I’d known him. He reminded me of a school boy tugging at a little girl’s braids.

Prim strode up from behind him with an exasperated sigh and pulled the flask from his hands. “You'll have poor Mrs. Trinket thinking the worst before she even gets to know you,” she admonished him.

“I've known enough ruffians in my time to spot one when I see him,” Effie sniffed as she brushed on by the pair. I'm not sure how, but I managed to keep from laughing aloud.

We split up into the two cars. Prim, Octavia, Rue and Nola squeezed into Doc's car while the rest of us did the same in Matthew's. It took Peeta just a moment to pull himself from the chair into the car, as he batted away his brother's well-meaning hands. It took Doc and Matthew far longer to load the chair into the back of the car and secure it. All the while, Peeta fidgeted beside me.

“It's quite unbecoming to squirm like that,” Effie murmured blandly.

Peeta sighed and pulled himself up straighter. “I'm sorry, Aunt. I'll try my best not to embarrass you.”

“And I don't know why you wouldn't let me put a blanket over your lap. People would be less likely to gawk,” she went on.

I was about to say something when Peeta tightly wrapped his fingers around mine. It seemed his brother wasn't the only one with a habit of not letting him handle things on his own. Looking away, I bit my lip and pretended not to hear the conversation.

“It's the only last week of June and it's already sweltering. I am not going to cook myself all summer to appease the sensibilities of this town's church-goers! Besides, there are going to be many more men coming home from the front with missing limbs. Maybe having gawked at me a good long while will satisfy their curiosity enough that they will leave the next man alone,” he replied with his head held high. I fought back the urge to kiss him just then.

“Must you be so morbid?” his aunt bemoaned.

The rest of the ride to town was filled with Effie prattling on about all of the things she missed about her home in the city. She went on and on about the lights and the culture, and how sad she was that the townsfolk didn't know what they were missing. She made it seem like all a person had to do was head to a city and they would instantly be in the lap of luxury. Somehow, I doubted that I would think the same thing when I saw Pittsburgh. Peeta had already told me about the smoke-filled skies and the crowded streets.

When we approached the church, we were still early enough that most folks hadn't arrived yet, but I spotted a familiar face sitting on the front steps. Thom jumped up from his step at our arrival and hurried over to greet us. Thom had once been a good friend of Gale's, but I wasn't aware that he had any real connection to the Mellarks aside from working in the mine. He greeted Matthew respectfully and helped him with the chair. I wondered if he knew about Peeta and I, but he didn't spare me a glance as the others got out of the car.

“Everything all right?” Peeta asked. I hadn't realized that I had gripped his fingers so tightly until he spoke.

“Just wondering what people will think,” I muttered softly.

“About me?” he asked with a frown.

“No, about me...and well, us.”

Peeta smiled. “And I thought you didn't care what anyone thought about you?"

“I don't,” I said firmly, but then I wasn't so sure. “I guess I don't care what everyone thinks, but there are some people that I do care about. Like Thom, who's helping your brother with your chair, and the Hawthornes. They've been my friends.”

“I think you should talk to them,” he told me gently. “Sometimes people will surprise you.”

I didn't have time to argue as Matthew returned with Doc and Thom. “We've already got your chair inside,” he told Peeta. “Thom and I will carry you in.”

Peeta's jaw immediately tightened as he nodded. I knew that he hated being carried, but it was unavoidable in some cases. I watched as the pair struggled to get him into the church. Instinctively, my eyes scanned the walkways of the town behind us. The wooden platforms before almost every single storefront barred him from ever entering on his own. The unfairness of it sat in my gut like a pound of rotten fish, but I supposed I would have to learn to deal with it as Peeta did.

We sat in the front pew—the one the Mellark family always used during their summer visits. I watched as people that I had known my whole life filed through the church doors and took their places almost like their names were carved into the wood. The Hawthornes sat in the middle pew on the left, the Callahans in the second pew on the right, and the Smiths just behind them. It was like nothing about this scene had changed, but in a way, it had. Eyes were glued on Peeta and me. Behind their hands, I could imagine what most of them were whispering, but there was one that I didn't have to wonder about. Rory was glaring at me for all he was worth. Beside him, his mother elbowed him in the side before giving me a brittle smile. I'm not sure which hurt more.

Service was dull as ever. Reverend Undersee was never one for stirring motivation. He was a tried-and-true traditionalist who tended to ramble. I'd never really had much good or bad to say about him. He seemed to me to be nothing more than a stuffed shirt with a clerical collar. My mind wandered as he droned on, but was snapped back to reality as I heard my name.

“Mr. Peter Mellark and Miss Katniss Everdeen are living proof among us that God indeed has a plan, and that hope can rise out of tragedy,” he said, catching my attention. I felt my cheeks turn bright red as he continued on. “It is my esteemed honor to join these two in Holy matrimony this upcoming Friday afternoon.”

As if I hadn't felt self-conscious enough already, every eye in the church was suddenly on me. I could feel the weight of their stares on my skin once again. Without thinking, I reached for Peeta's hand. His fingers weaved in between mine, and he leaned toward me. “Smile. Let's show them that they don't control our happiness,” he whispered as he lifted his hand to his lips.

Forcing a shaky smile, I looked back toward the congregation. Some of the townsfolk looked genuinely happy for us, but most looked skeptical. I knew how it must look to them all. Some, like Rory, would assume that I had basically sold myself to the Mellarks, but Peeta was ultimately right. These people didn't control our happiness.

We waited for the crowd to shuffle out the back of the church before leaving. Despite his bravado, we all knew that Peeta didn't really like to be on display any more than necessary. As we waited, I noticed Hazelle Hawthorne standing near the reverend's daughter, Madge. They seemed to be chatting amiably, like old friends.

Madge was a pretty blonde about my age. We had gone to school together, and out of all of the girls in school, she was the only one I got along with. Though we had never been close, I had liked her. Gale, however, had been less than kind to her. Madge lived a much easier life than we did, and I think he resented her for it. Still, it was obvious that no matter how short or rude he was with her, Madge only had eyes for Gale. I supposed, in a way, it didn't surprise me that she would have been there for Hazelle.

After a minute, the pair caught my gaze. I hurried to avert my eyes, but it was too late. Hazelle was on her way over. My heart caught in my throat as I rose to meet her halfway.

“I never thought I would live to see Katniss Everdeen in church,” she said softly.

I swallowed hard and tried to smile. “Hazelle, I... I'm sorry.”

Her gray eyes—the same ones she had given to Gale—stared straight into mine. “Do you really love him?”

“I do,” I said softly. “More than I ever thought possible.”

She nodded. “In my heart, I always knew that Gale wasn't the right one for you. I ignored it because I always wanted you for a daughter, and because I knew that he loved you so, but that didn't make him the one for you. If that man over there is the one your heart tells you is right for you, then don't feel guilty.”

“I should have come to see you sooner,” I croaked out through the tears that threatened to fall.

“I'd like it if you'd stop by every now and again, but I know that your life is going to be very busy from now on,” she said with a smile.

“I'll come by soon. I promise I will,” I swore.

“Whenever you have time,” she agreed.

Peeta and I were both very quiet that afternoon. It seemed that neither of us really had much to say about church that day. Any time that anyone asked either of us a question or tried to draw us into conversation, they were met with one word answers. We ended up on the porch alone after lunch. It seemed that the rest of the house wasn't in the mood for our silence, and decided to leave us be. After about an hour or so of just sitting around, Peeta seemed to become a bit restless.

“We should go for a swim,” I suggested as I watched him rolling his wheels back and forth.

“With a whole house full of guests?” he asked with a frown.

“Why not?” I said with a shrug.

“Why not,” he echoed with a smile. “We've both been cooped up too much recently.” He arched a brow mischievously. “Besides, I can't wait to hear Aunt Effie's reaction to your swimming costume.”

I groaned. A week or so after we had begun our swimming, I had enlisted Prim's help in de-ruffling the bathing suit. Though still ugly, it was at least wearable. I hadn't really given any thought to what the then mythical Aunt Effie would have to say about me borrowing and altering her clothing without asking. “I forgot about that,” I muttered.

Peeta laughed. “Want to make another bet?”

“Aren't you just a regular gambling fool?” I quipped.

“A river-boat gambler who fell to the beauty and wit of a Mississippi belle,” he teased, summoning up a Southern drawl.

“I should toss you overboard and let the alligators have you,” I grumbled, crossing my arms over my chest.

“How do you think I lost my legs?” he asked with a deep chuckle. “I think that's a much more interesting tale than having lost them in the war, don't you?”

I rolled my eyes. “So what is this bet?”

“I bet you that Effie doesn't even notice it's hers,” he smirked. “With all of the clothes that my aunt has, I doubt she even remembers owning the thing.”

“Who could forget that god-awful thing? Besides, Effie has to be the only woman alive that favors that particular shade of pink,” I told him, picturing the swim suit as it had been originally.

“Then it's a bet,” he announced, holding out his hand.

“So what are we betting?”

He shrugged. “I'm willing to go ahead and accept something you have already agreed to. But what do you want?”

“I still want my pants,” I said, assuming that he just meant another kiss like in our last bet.

I changed into the still ugly swimwear quickly and hurried downstairs to see Peeta waiting for me with Effie. She looked rather annoyed with him, to be honest. “Really, Peeta,” she huffed, “I don't see why you care so much about what I think of Katniss' swimsuit.”

“What was that about my bathing suit?” I asked, feigning ignorance. My lips quirked upward as I entered the room, but I managed not to give us away.

“What a lovely shade of pink,” Effie commented with a surprised smile. “I really think it's a tad on the plain side, but I adore that color on you. You simply must have more dresses made in that shade once we are in civilization!”

“I'm not so sure about that,” I grumbled, none too pleased at having lost another bet.

We were in the water swimming around before I finally asked, “So aren't you going to claim your kiss?”

Peeta smiled and rolled on his back to float. “Who said I would be satisfied with a kiss?”

“You did! You said you only wanted what I'd already agreed to,” I reminded him.

“And you have already agreed to what I want,” he replied smugly. “I'll tell you after we get out. I have something very specific in mind.”

I splashed water in his face and frowned. “You know I hate waiting.”

“I do.”

However, Peeta seemed in no great hurry to get out of the water. I knew he had missed the freedom that swimming gave him, so I tried my best not to drag him out of the lake. Sitting on the dock, I drug my fingers through my hair to remove the snarls as I watched him move. I didn't think I would ever get tired of seeing him using his powerful arms to pull himself through the water. It hadn't occurred to me until that moment how much I had actually missed our daily swim. A familiar heat began to rise, and I dipped my toes in the water to distract myself.

“You're awfully quiet over there,” he mused after a few minutes of silence.

“Just thinking,” I murmured.

“Anything I should be worried about?” he asked.

“No, nothing at all. It just seems like so long since we've been out here,” I commented.

“I'm really going to miss this,” he said with a heavy sigh. “Pittsburgh isn't nearly as peaceful, and chances are that we'll have more than a few meddling family members hovering around.”

“Do your parents ever come to Pittsburgh?”

“Mother avoids leaving Philadelphia—I'm not certain why, but I won't complain. My father used to split his time between cities, but with Matthew taking over his interests in the steel mills and the railroad car factory, he hasn't needed to travel. I doubt we'll see either of them.” He frowned and began swimming toward the dock. “I should get out. How close am I?”

I gave him directions and kept the rest of my questions to myself. I didn't want to ruin a good day. The mood had taken a definite turn for the worse, but Peeta seemed as determined to keep things positive as I was.

“Let's go sit under the willow a while,” he suggested as he hauled himself back into his chair.

Though the day was warm, there was a good breeze blowing, and the shade from the tree made it quite comfortable to sit outside. We put our towels down on the ground beneath us and sat side by side, just enjoying the calmness. I buried my face in Peeta's shoulder, letting out a deep sigh of contentment. It was one of those moments when everything seemed so very good and so very certain. I loved this man. I loved the life that we were carving out together. As though he read my thoughts, he pulled me tighter, leaving a light kiss on my forehead.

“I started to fall in love with you under this tree,” he said softly.

“You did?”

Peeta nodded and threaded his fingers through mine. “It was that first time we came outside together when you had me get out of the chair. You were the first person who made me feel alive again. I started to see hope again. And it made me wish for...” his words trailed off and he shrugged.

“Wish for what?” I prompted him.

“That I could actually see how beautiful you are. That I could be a whole man for you,” he said, looking away. “Even now, I wonder if I can be the kind of husband you deserve.”

“What if you are the husband that I need and want?”

Peeta smiled. “Well, I guess I can't argue with that.”

“So when are you going to tell me what I owe you?” I asked.

“Never mind,” he said, shaking his head. “It was something very foolish.”

“Tell me,” I demanded stubbornly.

“I wanted you to marry me,” he admitted softly.

“I told you I would. The wedding is Friday, in case you forgot,” I quipped.

“I'm not talking about Friday... I want you to marry me now,” he explained. “It occurred to me in church today that it feels like the wedding is really not about us. The wedding is something you do because it's proper, but I don't want to marry you because we were found out. I want to pledge my life to you because I love you. And I guess I am very selfish because I don't want to share that moment with anyone else.”

My heart caught in my throat. “I think it's a great idea,” I told him, squeezing his hand.

And so we got married under the willow that day. Peeta and I made vows before nature and God. There was neither preacher nor church, but the words that we spoke to one another were something so sacred that I have never repeated a single one of them to anyone. I couldn't have pictured a more perfect wedding day.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to Chelzie for her hard work and for never giving up on this story.

Chapter 19 

Being married already took away a surprising amount of stress from my shoulders. For the first time in perhaps my whole life, I was able to simply enjoy the moments as they came. It was like I was living in that pleasant warm moment just before waking from a wonderful dream. Even my own natural wariness seemed to melt away for the time being.

A picnic had been planned for Thursday to celebrate Rue's birthday. I had expected resistance from Matthew and Effie, but Matthew was pleased with the idea and Effie seemed to merely accept that I was going to be rather eccentric in my dealings with “the help.” With that hurdle crossed, Nola, Peeta, and I set about secretly planning the picnic. I was going to act as a distraction while everyone else set up the picnic.

That morning, Haymitch arrived in his usual grumbling fashion to take us in to town to pick up a few things that I'd need for my time in the big city. I could have cared less about the things I was supposed to be looking for, but for Rue's sake, I pretended to care about the combs and bottles of perfume that I was being presented with at the general store. If she was upset about her birthday being forgotten, she didn't show any signs of it.

“I can't imagine that you'll think too much of the things you buy here once you get to Pittsburgh,” Rue whispered as I picked up a pre-sewn shawl. 

“My name's not Effie. I don't need anything fancy,” I told her, setting the shawl aside. “Besides, I don't think I'll be doing much shopping.” 

Rue looked away. “I always wondered what it would be like to be the kind of girl who gets to wear nice things.” I must have looked guilty because she held up a hand and rolled her eyes. “Now, don't you look at me like that. I didn't say it so that you would feel sorry for me.” 

“I don't,” I protested. 

“But you feel bad because marrying Mr. Peeta makes you a rich woman?” she asked, arching a brow. 

“You spend too much time with Nola,” I said with a chuckle. 

“Guess that jus' means that I make sense,” Rue beamed with pride. 

I was about to say something in response, but a sudden feeling of unease settled over me. I turned just in time to see Cato and Marvel saunter through the door. Cato's cold stare raked over the two of us, sending a shiver down my spine. A predatory smile curved his lips, revealing yellowed teeth. Though he merely walked right by us on his way to the counter, there was something about the way he looked Rue and I up and down which reminded me that Cato hadn't forgotten our last meeting. The thought made me almost sick and I wanted to get as far away from him as possible. 

“Let's head on home,” I suggested, trying to keep my tone light. “I don't think I need too much more.” 

Rue frowned and opened her mouth to protest, but her gaze landed on the pair near the doorway and a knowing look lit in her eyes. “I s’pose Mrs. Trinket won't turn down an opportunity to go shopping,” she agreed. 

Haymitch was dozing in a chair just outside the door when we came out with our packages. His eyes opened so quickly that I immediately suspected he'd been only faking, but it was better to let it slide. 

“Did you ladies find what you were looking for?” he asked with an edge to his tones. 

I shrugged. “Good enough.” 

The ride back to the house took almost suspiciously long. I wondered if maybe Rue was beginning to have an inkling of what we were up to. She kept impatiently playing with the hem of her apron. 

“Do you think that Thresh will be home today?” she asked nervously. 

“I'm not sure. Matthew said he would be home tomorrow morning at the absolute latest, so I think it's pretty likely,” I replied. _So that's what this is about,_ I thought to myself. “You've missed him, haven't you?” 

She nodded. “He may not say much, but he's a good man, Miss Katniss. I jus' wish he didn't treat me like a little girl no more.” 

“Oh, I don't think he sees you as a little girl,” I told her, trying not to chuckle. If she didn't look so glum about it, I would have thought it was funny. 

“I jus' keep hoping...” she waved the thought away. “I keep acting like a darn fool.” 

“I'm starting to think that's what love does to a person,” I assured her. 

“Ain't you still nervous about tomorrow?”

“A bit,” I admitted. “I'm ready for things to settle in again, I guess.” 

Rue grinned. “I don't think things are ever going to be settled for you two. If I know one thing about the Mellarks, they ain't the kind to let grass grow under their feet.” 

We finally made it home just in time to see Nola hurrying out to the willow, carrying a basket. Rue looked over to me curiously. “Was there something I'm forgetting?” she asked. 

“I don't know. Why don't we find out?” 

It was truly amazing what Nola and the others were able to do in just a couple of hours. A table had been set up beneath the willow with a vase full of wild flowers and a lace tablecloth. The china on the table had come straight from the top shelf of the china cupboard, clearly saying that this was an occasion to celebrate a friend, not a servant. Beside the table, Peeta, Nola, Matthew, Effie, and—surprisingly—Octavia stood smiling brightly. “Happy birthday!” we all said in unison. 

Rue's eyes welled up with tears. “I never thought...” she murmured softly. 

“Well, we wouldn't have done a good job with the surprise if you'd expected something,” Peeta teased lightly. He reached over to the chair beside him and pulled it out. “Have a seat, my lady,” he told her with a bit of a bow. 

Rue brushed away the tears as Matthew pushed the seat in behind her. “Thank you so much! I never ever imagined that my birthday could be so wonderful.” 

“Child, did you really think I'd forgotten your birthday this year?” Nola asked with a chuckle as she lifted a carefully decorated cake from the basket. 

“Things have been a bit hectic, so it would have been all right if you did,” Rue said sheepishly, confirming the older maid's question. 

Nola had out done herself that day. Though her cooking never failed to impress, there was something special about what she made for Rue's birthday. It may have been simple fare, but it was hearty and tasty. There was something about it all that just tasted like home. And more than that—it _felt_ like home. 

I glanced around the table at all of the smiling faces. This was my new family. These people were the ones who made me feel like I had family that went deeper than blood or a last name. They weren't my family because I was marrying Peeta, but because I could actually trust them. Despite whatever squabbles and problems we had amongst ourselves, I believed in them and I knew they believed in me. The thought was frightening, and I had to fight the urge to tear up. Instead, I offered to take the plates inside. I was so intent on running that I didn't notice that I hadn't left the table alone. 

“Sweetheart?” 

I nearly jumped out of my skin at the sound of Haymitch's voice and sent the silverware scattering across the floor. At least the dishes survived. He bent to help me pick them up as I caught my breath. “I didn't hear you,” I said flatly. 

“You don't say?” he smirked. 

“Was there a reason you felt like bothering me?” I asked contrarily. 

He shrugged. “I thought I'd come ask you a question.” 

“So ask.” I was a bit more snappish than I'd meant to be, but I didn't really want to be talking to anyone right just then. “Sorry. I'm just a bit out of sorts.” 

“I can see that. Any particular reason?” he asked, looking at me sideways. 

I shook my head. 

Haymitch pulled his flask from his vest and took a long drink. “Given how quick this all came about, I don't suppose I need to tell you what passes between a man and woman on their wedding night.”

I gave him a glare and began stacking the dishes in the sink. “And I don't think you have any room to be talking about morals.” 

“God knows I don't,” he agreed with a sardonic laugh that cut off quickly. His eyes suddenly became serious. “But I guess that leads me to what I really came here for.” 

“I'm not sure I understand,” I said with a frown. 

“Can't give you the talk before your wedding the way your ma should have, so I figured... Hell, I thought this would be easy,” he muttered. He ran his fingers through his disheveled hair. “I wanted to know if you needed me to walk you down the aisle?” he eventually blurted out. 

I blinked for a minute before it actually sank in what Haymitch was offering to do for me. Until that point, I hadn't actually thought about who was going to walk me down the aisle. I didn't have a single living male relative, and Matthew—who would have probably done it had I asked him—and I weren't close enough to warrant that kind of thing. Haymitch and I, however, had seen each other weather enough storms that it made sense. Still, I hadn't really considered what that really meant about the two of us. But looking at him that day, all blustered and uncomfortable, I realized that Haymitch was offering to do something for me that he would never get to do for a child of his own. I swallowed the lump that was forming in my throat. 

“I'd really like that,” I agreed with a smile. 

“Well,” he grumbled, “Don't look too deep into it, sweetheart. You'd look awful strange tromping down that church aisle alone.” 

“I suppose I would,” I said with a chuckle. “Not nearly as proper as Effie would like. 

He smirked. “That woman's a whole peck of trouble wrapped up in one tiny silk purse.” 

As we walked back down toward the willow, I spotted two cars pulling up the drive. The first was the Mellark car that Thresh had taken, but the second I didn't recognize. A sense of dread began to build in my gut. Haymitch let out a disgruntled sigh that sounded an awful lot like how I felt at the moment. 

“Well, sweetheart, I reckon you're about to meet your new in-laws,” he murmured. 

I couldn't reply. All I could do was stare at the man who was stepping out of the second car as a thin, black man held the door open for him. Even if I had been thick enough to not realize who was in the car, I couldn't have missed the resemblance that Mr. Mellark bore to his sons. He was a bit shorter than Matthew and solidly built with short, clipped, blond hair that was starting to gray and a heavy mustache. His gaze skimmed over Haymitch and I before he turned towards the party. 

“This is going to go well,” I groaned. 

“Want my flask?” 

I elbowed Doc hard in the ribs and hurried back down to the table. Mr. Mellark had beaten us there by just a second, and didn't seem to be getting a very warm welcome. Matthew was practically sending daggers flying from his eyes, and Peeta's jaw was set in a stony line that I hadn't seen since my first days in the house. 

“And you thought that I wouldn't want to at least be here for my son's wedding?” Mr. Mellark asked softly. “That a telegram would suffice?” 

“Given your lack of concern when I came home, I thought it was more than sufficient,” Peeta replied in a low growl. 

I stepped to Peeta's side, reaching out for his shoulder. He squeezed my fingers so tightly that I thought he might have broken them. “Are you going to introduce us?” I asked, swallowing hard. 

“Father, this is my fiancée, Katniss Everdeen. Katniss, this is my father, Gregory Mellark,” he said rather grudgingly. 

“Nice to meet you,” I said flatly. 

Mr. Mellark's mustache twitched with a sort of wry grin at my tone, but held out his hand. “Miss Everdeen, the pleasure is all mine.”

“We were just celebrating Rue's birthday. Why don't the three of us step inside so that everyone else can enjoy a slice of cake and some peace?” Matthew suggested. He gave me a glance that was willing me to stay with the others and not to argue. For once, I didn't disagree. 

“I'll go help Nola,” I announced, pasting on a smile. I gave Peeta one last encouraging touch before forcing myself to turn around. 

Everyone around the table was trying not to stare at the family drama unfolding before them. Effie, it seemed, was trying to shrink into a corner. It struck me as odd that she wasn't inserting herself into the middle of things. She watched the men go inside without so much as a word about Mr. Mellark's arrival. Squaring her shoulders, she reached for her fan. 

“It's such a lovely day!” she proclaimed a bit loudly. “I would just adore a turnabout the lake, if you would be so kind, Dr. Abernathy.” 

“Since you asked so nicely, Your Majesty, I can't say no,” Haymitch replied with his usual dose of sarcasm, but he gallantly offered his arm. 

With Effie gone, both Delly and Octavia suddenly made excuses to leave. I had a suspicion that they were going to try to eavesdrop on the Mellarks. The temptation to do the same was there, but I wasn't about to let Rue's birthday be completely spoiled. I did as I had said I would and helped Nola hand out slices of cake. 

“At least Daddy and Jeremiah came home with Thresh and Mr. Mellark,” Rue said cheerfully as she took her plate. 

Nola smiled. “Sometimes the Good Lord sees fit to answer a lonely woman's prayers.” 

“I didn't see Thresh or anyone else,” I commented, looking back to the house.

“The first rule of being a servant in a household like this one is that when you see trouble a' brewin' you head the other way jus' as fast and quiet-like as you can,” Nola explained with a chuckle. “Those boys know they don't want no part of no family trouble. I expect they'll be outside just as soon as they carry Mr. Gregory's trunk upstairs.” 

“And you know that jus' as soon as the wedding's over that Mrs. Trinket will be on her way sooner than you can spit,” Rue chimed in. 

“Doesn't she get along with Mr. Mellark?” I asked with a frown. 

Nola sighed and plopped down in the seat beside me. “Once upon a time, they got along a bit too well.” 

“They had an affair?” I choked out. 

“No, it wasn't quite that bad. You see, when Mr. Gregory came into society, not too many folks in the hoity-toity set were about to give him a chance. At the same time, the Campbell sisters were gettin' pretty desperate for rich husbands, and their Daddy made sure to introduce them to Mr. Gregory. Rumor was that Mr. Gregory and Ms. Effie fell fast and hard for each other,” she told me with a raised eyebrow. 

“But then how did he end up married to her sister?” 

“That was one dirty deed that Mr. Campbell did that can't ever be undone. He told Mr. Gregory that he could marry his daughter, but the girl he walked down the aisle a couple months later wasn't the daughter that he'd been courtin.' Left Mr. Gregory in a spot to either ruin Ms. Mildred's reputation and say no, or break Ms. Effie's heart and say yes. Some would say that he did the honorable thing,” Nola said sadly. “Some others would say that he ruined more than one girl's reputation.” 

The cake in my mouth suddenly tasted like glue, and I understood a lot more about Effie than I ever really wanted to. I imagined what it would feel like to see Prim and Peeta together...to see their children. Just the thought of it was painful, and I couldn't picture myself ever being able to come back from that kind of betrayal. Propriety was probably the only thing that held her together after something like that. I didn't want to empathize with Effie, but I did. 

True enough to Nola's prediction, Thresh appeared with two older men at his side not a full ten minutes after everyone else had made their grand exits. The older of the two was tall and lanky—though not so tall as Thresh—with a thin spattering of white hair and a slight paunch. The second was smaller built with fine features and much lighter skin. He had been the one who held open the door for Mr. Mellark, and I instantly knew that he must be Rue's father. 

Rue raced right up and threw her arms around her father, who kissed the top of her head. I didn't miss the sheen of tears on the girl's cheeks as she blathered on about how much she had missed him and all of the things that had happened at the house. Breathing didn't seem to matter much to Rue at the moment. I watched the two with a smile, but soon noticed that I wasn't the only one watching. Thresh was discreetly staring from the corner of his eye. A muscle ticked in his jaw, and I couldn't help wondering if he wished he were the one holding Rue. 

Nola made a soft sound to get our attention. “Katniss, I'd like you to meet my husband, Jeremiah.” 

"Now, Miz Katniss, I gots an apology to make to ya,” he said as he took my hand in his own rock hard fingers. 

“An apology?” I asked. 

He gave me a wide grin, revealing a missing front tooth. “Yes, Miz, I do. Ya see, when Thresh here tol' me that Mista Peeta found himself one o' the mos' beautiful girls ever done come out of the whole darn state o' Pennsylvania, I thought ta myself it was jus' tha' boy goin' on how he do. But here ya are, and ain't you just as pretty as Sunday,” he said in a raspy voice, softened by his deep drawl. 

I chuckled and Nola rolled her eyes. “I suppose I can forgive you this once,” I teased. 

“Now, let's see if your wife forgives you for goin' on so about another woman right in front of her,” Nola said, eying him with mock jealousy. 

“I only said Miz Katniss was the prettiest girl ever come out o’ Pennsylvania, but you darlin', you are the mos' beautiful woman ever born in the whole South,” he said a bit more seriously. 

Nola smiled at him bashfully. It was obvious that even after years of marriage, he still made her heart race. Only the luckiest of couples had that kind of love—the kind that radiated from around them and made everyone around them wistful. Was it too much to hope that Peeta and I would be like them someday? 

After being introduced to Rue's father, Thomas, I helped Nola make plates for the men and listen silently to all of the goings-on of a household across the state. Jeremiah, it seemed, was involved in everyone's business like some old washer woman. He talked about the other servants and the neighboring households, but was suspiciously silent when it came to the Mellarks. 

“How upset is Mrs. Mellark about the wedding?” I asked after he finished an involved tale about the neighbor's gardener who didn't know the first thing about tending to roses. Everyone at the table went silent and then looked away. “I know his parents can't be happy about it. You don't have to worry about hurting my feelings.” 

Finally, Thomas spoke. His voice was soft and smooth, like his daughter's. “Mrs. Mellark ain't the kinda woman who cares for other folk's happiness—least of all them boys. She'll snarl and hiss at you like some ol' she-cat caught in a trap, but you can't let her bother you none.” 

“I won't,” I assured him. “And Peeta's father?” 

“That man would sooner lie in front of a train than see his boy hurt more than he already is. He hasn't made up his mind yet if he likes you none,” Thomas admitted with a sigh. 

“Wonder how it's goin' in there?” Rue mused. 

We didn't have to wonder much longer. Before Thresh and the older men had finished their cake, Matthew stormed out the front door, slamming it behind him. He seemed to realize that he was making a spectacle of himself, and nodded to us as he put on his hat. 

“I've got some paperwork to do at the mine,” he said roughly. “Don't bother holding dinner for me, Nola.” 

I took Matthew's departure as a sign that it was safe to go inside. I found Peeta in the library, pushing at his wheels irritably. “Katniss?” he asked as he heard me enter. 

“It's me,” I confirmed. “I saw Matthew on his way out. It didn't go well?” 

Peeta let out a dark chuckle. “If by going well, you mean that I got to sit here and listen to my brother and father fight over me as if I were a child, too simple to comprehend my own choices, then it went beautifully.” 

“I'm sorry,” I said, touching his cheek lightly. 

“Don't be sorry. You didn't do anything to cause any of this,” he told me. He pulled my fingertips to his lips and kissed them. “I hope you realize what kind of mess of a family you're marrying into.” 

“I'm not marrying you for your family,” I assured him. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

“Not particularly,” he replied. “Would you mind pouring me a glass of the brandy sitting on the sideboard?” 

I did as he asked. As I handed him the glass, I noticed how his hand trembled slightly. He was putting on a brave face for me, but whatever had transpired earlier had left him angry and hurt. I wanted to storm up the stairs and throw his father out of the house, but what would that prove? That I was like Matthew and thought that Peeta wasn't man enough to handle his own problems? That I wanted to spend our life together fighting his battles? Peeta needed to face this on his own. I couldn't race off to defend him. I watched him slowly down the liquor in silence. 

“You know what my father said to me when I was first brought home?” he asked softly as he set aside the empty glass. He didn't wait for my reply. “He told me that he was glad I was home, and then walked off to his office without another word. Before I left for the war, he hosted a dinner party to send me off like a hero. He toasted me and made sure that everyone knew how very proud of me he was. But when I came home... he couldn't even stand to look at me. He just left me alone to sulk in the dark like I was some broken toy tossed off to the side. And now, he comes out here telling me how much he loves me. I always used to think he loved me—not like my mother—but now...” 

“Peeta, I'm sure he loves you. Some people just have a hard time showing it,” I said, swallowing my tears. 

“Does he? I wish I could believe that, but I'm not so sure. The only thing that I'm sure of is that if we have a child, I'll spend every day of my life making sure they know how much I love them—and you, too. I do love you, Katniss,” he said softly. 

I wrapped my arms around him and kissed him sweetly. “I love you, too.” 

“Are you still nervous about tomorrow?” he asked with a small smile.

“No,” I told him honestly. “Tomorrow is just the dog and pony show. I'm already your wife.” 

His smile widened. “You are.” 

I laid my head against his shoulder and let him hold me for a bit. 

Dinner followed the usual Mellark house trend of being silent and uncomfortable. Matthew's place at the head of the table was taken by Mr. Mellark, who kept trying to draw Peeta into conversation. Though he didn't outright ignore his father, Peeta's answers were short and clipped. Even Effie was unusually subdued. She didn't spare so much as a sniffed comment when I accidentally put my elbows on the table. I had never been much of a conversationalist and couldn't think of anything to lighten the mood, so I simply sat there and picked at my food as I stared at Peeta. This wasn't how I pictured spending the night before my wedding. I plead a headache—copying Effie, who had disappeared up the stairs before the dishes were even cleared—and went to my room. 

A storm rolled in not long after I had put on my nightgown. Outside my window, I could see the dark clouds moving over the evening sky. Lightning crackled its way down from the heavens over the lake, sending reflections of it across the water. I sat in the window seat and watched the raindrops trickling against the window pane. Rain or shine, tomorrow morning I would officially be married. I laid my head against the cool glass and listened to the wind. 

Despite the rhythmic tapping of the raindrops on the roof, sleep wouldn't claim me that night. I was tempted to go to Peeta's room, but knew that it would be better if I waited until tomorrow. There had been enough upheaval in this house already. I didn't need to add to it, no matter how much I wanted to crawl into Peeta's strong arms and let him hold me. I drifted in and out of a fitful half-slumber for a few hours before rolling out of bed and tossing on my robe. How little I'd eaten at dinner had finally caught up with me and I crept down to the kitchen. 

Other than the sounds of the storm, the house was silent. It wasn't even close to dawn, so I hadn't exactly been expecting anyone else to be about. However, I could see a sliver of light coming from beneath the kitchen door and could hear the comforting sound of Nola kneading bread. I breathed a sigh of unanticipated relief. Though I knew it was wrong to be glad that the poor woman was already working on the wedding brunch into the wee hours of the night, I was glad that I would have some company and perhaps get a few more last minute words of wisdom. When I opened the door, however, it wasn't Nola standing in the kitchen to greet me. 

Mr. Mellark stood at the counter with his sleeves rolled up, wearing Nola's apron that was covered in flour. He smiled at me a bit sheepishly and wiped his hands on a towel. “You've not even married into the family yet and you're already finding out my secrets,” he murmured. 

“I'll leave you alone,” I said softly, unsure how to proceed with my soon-to-be father-in-law. 

“No need,” he replied. He pulled out a chair for me much the same as Matthew had the first time we shared a meal. “I wouldn't mind having a moment of your time if you could spare it.” 

I reluctantly took a seat, but couldn't think of anything to say so I watched Mr. Mellark at work in the kitchen. It sure was a strange sight to see a wealthy industrialist so at ease in kitchen, yet Mr. Mellark moved about as though baking were as natural to him as breathing. He removed four neatly risen cake layers from the oven and set them aside to cool before sliding his loaves of bread in to bake. He must have noted the curiosity in my gaze, because he chuckled at me. 

“Some men drink or gamble to relieve stress, but I have always found baking to be much more relaxing,” he confided. “As you will no doubt soon come to see, it's always more acceptable for one to be eccentric when they've a well-endowed bank account.” 

Despite the fact that I knew I shouldn't like him at all, I found myself smiling. “What makes you think that I'm not the picture of normalcy?” 

“A hunch,” he answered with a grin that very much reminded me of Peeta's. 

“Where did you learn to bake?” I asked as I watched him start to mix together what I assumed were the ingredients for icing. 

“Peeta didn't tell you that his grandfather was a baker? Well, I assume that the two of you have had much more pressing matters to discuss; but to answer your question, my father taught me. I was kneading dough and decorating cakes when I was scarcely tall enough to reach the table,” he explained. “Baking is a noble trade. I suppose if I hadn't been so enamored with the idea of making money, I would have been a decent baker.” 

“Do you think being a baker is a more noble trade than being a business man?” 

It was a rude question, but Mr. Mellark didn't seem bothered by my bluntness. Instead, he handed me one of the cookies that had been cooling on a rack behind him. “Certainly,” he agreed cheerily. 

I stared at the cookie in my hand without taking a bite. It felt like a peace offering, but I wasn't quite ready to accept it just yet. This man had hurt Peeta deeper than Delly or even his mother could have, and that was an unforgivable crime in my mind. 

“Why didn't you tell Peeta you were still proud of him when he came home?” I asked, finally letting my anger surface. 

He stared at me with eyes as blue as Peeta's, surrounded by myriad of fine lines etching their way out to his temples. Pain radiated from their depths. “I am more proud of Peeta than I could ever begin to tell him. It was _me_ that I was ashamed of. I will never forgive myself for letting him go to war, and I am convinced that there aren't enough prayers in all of the world’s churches that could undo even an ounce of what I've done to him.” 

“You turned your back when he needed you the most,” I said flatly. “Why?” 

“Because I am a coward at heart, Katniss,” he told me. He sank into a chair, suddenly looking decades older than he had only seconds prior. “A weak man and a coward who sent his youngest son off to war, hoping that it would harden him against the regrets and mistakes I had burdened him with. I drank champagne and toasted Peeta going off to defend freedom and patriotism on a battlefield, and never once did I really think about the hell that I was sending him to. A father is supposed to protect his children, and instead I sent him to the trenches to suffer. How could I look him in the eye knowing what I had done? I told myself that I just needed to give myself some time to come to terms with everything, that he would barely notice I was gone; I had been gone through most of his life after all, so why would it matter that I was gone now? I was such a fool. I didn't realize until Peeta had come here that I had missed the chance to fix things even on the smallest of scales. You have no idea how much I regret it all, nor how much I would give to change it if I could.” 

I swallowed hard and forced myself to take a bite of the cookie. “There's still time, you know.” 

“I suppose there is,” he said. “And Nola was right about you; you are the best thing that could have happened to him out here.” 

“Nola said that?” I asked. 

He nodded. “I've had her writing me almost every other day since he's been here. Matthew won't even speak to me, so I had to have someone keeping tabs for me.” 

I rolled my eyes in annoyance. “I think I understand both of your sons so much better now.”


	20. Chapter 20 Part 1

Chapter 20 

“Katniss. Come on, Katniss. It's time to wake up!”

The annoyingly pleasant voice in my ear was accompanied by hand on my shoulder which I swatted at groggily. “Go away,” I murmured to the offender.

“But you have to get ready!” a new voice huffed loudly.

I opened my eyes too suddenly and winced at the pale light streaming in from the window. Somewhere along the line, I had actually fallen into a deep sleep that didn't want to let go of me. I rubbed my eyes. Effie, Delly, Prim, Rue and Octavia were surrounding my bed smiling far too wide for such an early hour. It took a moment before I fully understood why they were here.

“The wedding,” I murmured. 

“Yes, the wedding,” Effie sniffed. “We don't have very much time.”

“But the wedding isn't until nine,” I whined.

“Yes, and that only gives us four hours to get you ready,” Octavia cut in as she began setting out a collection of bottles and jars out on the vanity table. I flopped back down on the mattress with a loud groan. Prim and Delly giggled in unison at my reaction while Rue struggled to hold back a grin, but Effie and her maid seemed less than amused.

The five women began to move like a well-oiled locomotive, readying a bath and prying me from beneath the covers. I soon found myself being reluctantly scrubbed and primped like never before. Creams that I hadn't known existed were suddenly being worked into my calloused hands. For the first time in my life, I met the abomination known as the curling tongs. I listened to my hair sizzling against the hot metal and cringed. I wasn't sure if any of this would make me pretty—nor did I care as much as some people seemed to think was normal—but I let them do their work without protest, mainly because it seemed to matter so much to them. When all was said and done, I stared at my reflection in shock.

I barely looked like myself. The rouge and khol that Octavia had applied brightened my eyes and brought color to my lips. My hair was no longer contained in its usual braid, but cascading down from an intricate upswept fashion in soft curls. I wasn't even wearing my dress yet, but I already felt like someone other than myself. Was this who Mrs. Peter Mellark should be?

“You look beautiful,” Prim sighed wistfully.

Swallowing hard, I forced a smile. “I guess I clean up all right.”

“Better than all right,” Delly said with a grin.

“And wait until you see the dress,” Prim gushed. “Delly had such a brilliant idea that turned out beautifully.”

Delly blushed. “It only worked because Prim and Rue are so wonderfully talented with a needle.”

I did have to admit that I was curious about the dress that the pair had been working on so feverishly. Though I hadn't exactly been beating down the door to see it, I had asked for a look once before and been denied. Even pointing out that it was my wedding hadn't been enough to get a peek of it. I couldn't even talk Rue into telling me about it

“Well, can I see it?” I prompted impatiently.

The girls shared a look and linked arms conspiratorially. “Should we make her wait?” Prim asked in mock secrecy.

“No,” I cut in, “You most definitely shouldn't make me wait!”

“All right then,” Delly agreed a bit reluctantly.

When the dress was finally revealed, at first, all I could do was stare at it. I had never even dreamed of something like what they had done—and I wasn't sure whether that was a good thing or a bad one. The dress has obviously begun its life as a very demure ivory silk gown with a loose lace overlay. Where it had been altered was glaringly obvious. Bright red-orange flowers had been added to the neckline and ribbons had been woven into the short sleeves with a wide silk sash of the same color. My first thought was that this was perhaps the one article of clothing that could rival Effie's damned swimming costume for the title of world’s ugliest. I hated it, but I took my time before I said anything at all. I fingered the garish flowers thinking they were so bright and ugly that not even Peeta could miss them. And then it hit me: Peeta would be able to see the accents. Suddenly, the dress didn't seem ugly at all.

“Peeta always did love orange,” Delly said, as though reading my mind.

I swallowed back the knot that had formed in my throat. “It's perfect,” I told her honestly. “Thank you so very much.”

The dress fit like a glove in a way that no other piece of clothing I'd ever owned had. Mama had always left a little “growing room” in the dresses she'd made before she died and all my other clothes had been hand-me-downs or pre-sewn from the mercantile. In a way, the gown was a hand-me-down too, but somewhere along the line it had become “mine” like nothing else I'd ever owned. I fingered the lace, feeling oddly at peace with all of the girlishness. I suppose the fact that most of it was for Peeta's benefit had canceled out my own discomfort.

“You look stunning,” Effie assured me as she stared over my shoulder into the mirror.

I met her gaze in the glass but before I could answer her, a knock sounded at the bathroom door.

“Katniss?” I heard Peeta call from behind the door.

Effie frowned and blocked my path. “It's bad luck to see the bride before the wedding, Peeta,” she called back.

“Then I guess my blindness has its upsides,” he quipped.

“Oh, Peeta,” his aunt sighed. “It's not proper.”

“Proper or not, I need to talk to Katniss...alone,” he retorted flatly. There was something about his tone that didn't invite any argument.

Effie sniffed sharply, but motioned to the others to follow her out.

Suddenly, I felt very shy about seeing Peeta. As he moved to open the door, I stopped him when it was no more than a sliver. Delly and the others had gone through so much trouble with the dress that it didn't seem fair to spoil it. “Can we talk through the door?” I asked nervously.

“I suppose,” he agreed with a heavy sigh. I expected him to say something romantic or sweet, but for a long time—or at least it felt like a long time—he was silent.

“So you threw everyone out not to talk to me?” I prompted.

“It isn't too late to back out of this.”

I blinked for a moment as the words sunk in. “What?”

“I mean, it isn't too late to call the whole thing off. I've probably pressured you this far, but if you don't want to go through with it, you don't have to,” he said softly.

“For someone who doesn't actually have feet, yours turned cold rather quickly,” I snapped. “Do _you_ want to call it off?”

“No. It's not that.”

“Well, then what is it?”

Peeta sighed and I heard his wheels creaking like they did whenever he rocked them back and forth nervously. “I feel like I'm forcing you into this,” he admitted. “And that isn't fair to you. You don't deserve to be trapped with me if it isn't what you want.”

“Like it or not, Peeta, I already consider myself a married woman. You're right that I didn't want this—any of it. I didn't want to fall in love with you, but I _did_ fall in love with you. It still scares me how much I love you, and it scares me that I'll fail miserably as a wife. Maybe I didn't intend for this to happen, but it did. Now I can't picture my life without you in it. And if I didn't want to marry you, I wouldn't marry you. There isn't a force on Earth that could have made me,” I told him stonily. “And if you don't want to marry me, you’d better say so now or else stop this nonsense and get ready to meet me at the church.”

Peeta let out a relieved chuckle. “I don't think you realize how much I really do love you.”

“You'd better,” I grumbled.

“Stick your hand through the door,” he commanded suddenly.

“Why?”

“Just do it. I'll even close my eyes if you are really afraid I'll see your dress,” he assured me.

“All right, but close them tight,” I said reluctantly.

I reached my hand through the gap of the door while he groped for my hand for a moment before finding it. He placed something small in my palm before closing my fingers tightly around it.

“It was my Grandmother Mellark's,” he told me with obvious pride.

Curious, I opened my hand and stared down at a single pearl attached to a gold chain. The pearl was tiny, but perfectly round and had a diamond chip above it. It wasn't the kind of heirloom that I would expect from him. When I thought about what kind of jewelry the Mellarks would pass down, I pictured heavy, gaudy stones as big as eggs, not the pearl in my hand. But I liked this better.

“It's beautiful,” I told him honestly.

“My grandfather gave it to my grandmother on her wedding day, back when he was just an apprentice baker and she was only sixteen. He didn't have much to give, but he gave her all that he had. His death almost killed my grandmother. I remember how sad she always looked when I was a little boy, but she would still hold onto her pearl and smile—like just thinking of him made it better somehow. In her will, she stated that whichever grandson married first was to give the necklace to his wife on their wedding day. I wasn't the one that anyone would have expected to be first, but I think that just maybe this necklace was always meant to be yours,” he said with a smile in his voice.

Holding the pearl between my fingers, it was all I could do to not throw open the door and kiss him for all he was worth. The necklace was already more dear to me than a million dollars’ worth of diamonds.

“Let's go get married,” I managed to say through my tears.

I arrived to the church in the second car with all of the women. The men had helped Peeta into the first and headed out not too long before us and were already inside when we pulled up. As Jeremiah opened the door for me, I felt a sudden shard of nervousness strike. I was about to face my whole future, and despite the fact that I really did love Peeta, it was a daunting moment in time. Nola must have somehow sensed that I was on the verge of panic like a deer only a split second before it runs, because I felt her hand on my shoulder. She gave me a look of confidence as I stepped out of the car, and I instantly felt grounded again.

Haymitch was waiting for me in the vestibule, looking much more groomed than I had ever seen him before. Rather than the dingy gray suit he usually wore to church, he was wearing a black one that had obviously been dusted off from the back of his closet. The pale blue vest was a bit tight around the middle, but it fit him well enough. His hair had been trimmed and slicked back nicely, and his perpetual scruff had been scraped away. There was even a red rose stuck into his lapel. It was the first real glimpse I ever had of a version of Haymitch that would have been had his wife and family not died. The fact that he chose my wedding day to reveal himself was both heartbreaking and touching.

“Well, sweetheart, I don't know how they did it, but they made a lady out of you,” he quipped as he took a drink from his ever present flask.

I chuckled. “Only for a day.”

He grinned and then suddenly his eyes darted behind me. Effie had ascended the stairs and was fixing a wayward curl in her compact mirror. Even I had to admit that she looked lovely in a bright pink, ruffled blouse and cream-colored, high-waisted skirt. She noticed his interest and forced her gaze elsewhere, but not before I caught the look that passed between them.

“I'll go make sure everyone is in their places,” she murmured breathlessly as she hurried through the door.

I opened my mouth to say something but Haymitch lift a hand to stop me. “That bird's not for me,” he said sternly.

I didn't have time to argue with him as the organ music suddenly began. It was time.

There are probably a million tiny things I have forgotten about that day, but I swear that I can still see him just as he was that day when the doors opened. Peeta was standing next to the Reverend, leaning heavily on his canes, dressed sharply in a dark blue suit that brought out his eyes. He was handsome—just as he was every other day—but it was more than that. There was something about the way he looked now that I knew I was about to be his wife. And then there was the moment when he saw me. I was halfway up the aisle before he could make me out. He was squinting toward me and then all of a sudden, his eyes widened. The smile on his face that had been a bit nervous before brightened until it was near blinding.

“You look beautiful,” he whispered as he reached for my hand before the altar.

“Delly made the dress,” I replied dismissively.

He shook his head. “The dress is nice, but _you_ are beautiful.”

Reverend Undersee cleared his throat.

“Dearly beloved,” he began, but I don't think I was listening much at that point. All I could hear was the rush of my heartbeat in my ears and Effie's sniffling from the front pew. Somehow, I managed to agree at all the right places and before I knew it, Peeta was sliding a ring on my finger and leaning in to kiss me. The kiss was chaste and quick due to the crowd before us, but I knew that there would be more to come that night once we were alone.

After the service, Peeta and I rode in one car driven by Thresh and everyone else piled into the other cars. All it took was a hint from my new husband that it would be appreciated if we took the “long way home” and had precious moments to ourselves. It wasn't real privacy, but it was more than we had gotten in what felt like forever. Pretending that Thresh wasn't in the driver's seat in front of the divider, I snuggled up against my husband's shoulder.

“We're married...again,” Peeta murmured contentedly as he kissed my forehead. “I'm not sure how I got so lucky, but I'm glad I did.”

I let out a sigh and burrowed into the crook of his neck. “Well, Mr. Mellark, I'd say things are looking up for both of us today.”

By the time we arrived, the brunch had been laid out on lace covered table and the cake was set up on another with a crystal punch bowl beside it. Effie fluttered around, looking as much in her natural environment as I had ever seen. Somehow, she had turned a simple wedding into a society event. I groaned at the sight.

“Whatever it is,” Peeta said with a chuckle, “It can't be that bad.”

“Your Aunt is in full force,” I told him dryly.

He shrugged. “Did you expect anything else?” 

Before I could reply, Thresh was holding the door open for me while Jeremiah and Thomas unloaded Peeta's chair. He offered me a hand as I struggled to maintain at least a hint of ladylike manners while getting out. Thresh's lips quirked upwards. “Congratulations, Mr. Mellark.... Mrs. Mellark,” he said wryly.

“I think I liked it better when you didn't talk to me,” I grumbled as I rolled my eyes. Thresh grinned so widely that I got a good look at every single tooth in his head, but said nothing as he helped Peeta into his chair.

It didn't take long for Effie to usher us into our proper places at the long table. She was still dramatically dabbing at her eyes with a lace handkerchief as she went on about what a beautiful wedding it had been. I pasted on a smile and did my best not to look annoyed with her.

“I'm sure you'll be very happy to have the house to yourselves tonight,” she whispered in my ear.

“To ourselves?” I asked in confusion. Even though it had been assumed that the guests and other residents of the house would give us space, we hadn't actually planned on being truly alone. In fact, I hadn't really given it much thought at all.

“Oh, yes,” Effie replied emphatically. “Rue and Olivia managed to make the guest rooms at Dr. Abernathy's home usable for the gentlemen, and Prim has graciously offered to share her bed with me. We all thought you might appreciate a bit of time as newlyweds.” She winked at me conspiratorially as she said the last bit, and I blushed.

Beside us, Matthew and Peeta were laughing heartily at something that I assumed was dirty, causing my color to deepen. It suddenly felt like everyone knew what Peeta and I would be doing that night—which, of course, they did. Even though they all knew or suspected that I wasn't exactly a lily white virgin, it was embarrassing to think that what was going to happen was no secret. Normally, my discomfort would have made me pricklier than a porcupine, but my husband simply squeezed my hand and I felt the tension in me magically disappear.

“My brother thinks you're too good for me,” he said with a wide grin.

“She is too good for you,” Matthew confirmed, giving me a nod of approval. “And I must say, welcome to the family, Katniss. You have my sincerest condolences that you'll be saddled with us as relatives.”

I chuckled and shook my head. “I'm sure you'll be wonderful in-laws....at least when you're on your own side of the state.”

My new brother's eyes glittered with humor. “Of all of the places I'm sure you've wished to send me, I doubt the other side of the state was one of them.”

“Before you say something you may regret,” Peeta cut in, “Matthew has opened his home in Pittsburgh to us. His house is closer to the school and has fewer stairs. I hope you don't mind.”

I didn't mind in the least. In fact, I let out a silent sigh of relief. Matthew's brand of meddling was easier for me to take than Effie's was, and it was easier to put him in his place than it was the matron. Besides, I hadn't been looking forward to having nowhere to hide from all of the shopping that Effie had planned.

The brunch went quickly with many jokes at our expense. It seemed that no one at the table was going to let us go without a bit of good-natured ribbing. Only one person at the table was notably silent, and it wasn't Thresh. The normally stoic handyman managed to throw in a few wry jabs throughout the meal. It was actually Mr. Mellark who sat pensively at the other side of the table. His eyes never left his son, and it didn't take a genius to know what he was thinking. Once again, he was letting his chance to tell Peeta how proud he was slip by him. Even as the cake that he had stayed up all night to make was cut, he held his tongue.

I drew in a steadying breath as Nola handed me my slice. “I hope the cake your father made us tastes as good as it looks,” I said a bit loudly.

Peeta's fork paused midair. “You made this?” he asked.

“I did,” Mr. Mellark replied, eying me with annoyance. “Given the results of my last well-wishing for you, it didn't seem right for me to make a toast in your honor. I thought perhaps a cake would be better received.”

“Thank you,” Peeta told him. His voice was thick with emotion but he somehow managed to swallow his bite of cake. “I remember when you taught me how to make icing flowers when I was five.”

The eldest Mellark smiled and looked away. “That was the day that your mother sent you to your room for getting paint on her skirts, and it seemed an unfair thing to punish a boy for acting his age. Even then, you had an eye for detail and such steady hands.”

“At least my hands are still steady,” Peeta teased.

Mr. Mellark's lips never so much quirked up. “I think your eye for detail has only improved in its own way.”

It was funny that a slice of cake could reconcile father and son, but it did that day. I think it was the best piece of cake I ever had in my life, and that had nothing to do with the silky, sweet icing or the almond filling. By the time Nola and Rue were clearing plates, Peeta and his father were down on the dock. It was time, my husband said, to go stretch his legs. I watched their silhouettes against the sun and glittering water and felt my heart swelling with happiness.

“I don't think you're near as rough as you'd like folks to think,” Nola announced as she took my plate.

I shrugged. “I don't care what people think one way or another.”

She merely smiled at my reply.

“Thank you for all of your hard work with the wedding,” I said sincerely.

“Child, you don't have to thank me. I think you know as well as I do that when you're doin' for somebody you love, it ain't no bother at all.” She pushed at one of my curls escaping its pins. “I think you'll do jus' fine in this family. They need more plain talking and straight thinking, and I think you need more dreaming.”

“We'll see,” I said with an uncomfortable shrug.

Not long after Mr. Mellark and Peeta returned from the dock, the wedding guests all seemed to make excuses to leave. If their intent wasn't clear enough, their grins and winks made it so. Even innocent little Prim was in on it.

“I helped Nola put together a basket for your dinner tonight,” she told us, biting her lip. “And don't worry if you aren't hungry. No one expects you to eat much tonight, anyway.”

I rolled my eyes. “Not that you should know anything about it,” I grumbled.

“As your new brother, I have to agree with Katniss that you shouldn't know anything about it at all,” Peeta added with a chuckle.

“Oh, I am the picture of naivety,” she promised as she kissed his forehead. “And I think that I'll like having a brother.”

From behind her, Matthew cleared his throat. “Brothers.”

“If I would have known that this was what it took to have a family again, I would have married Katniss off ages ago,” Prim announced, obviously enjoying the attention.

“It's nice to know that I've had some value to you over the years,” I sighed.

She merely smiled and shook her head. “You don't fool me. You know just how much I love you.”

I hugged Prim and said goodbye to her and the others. Peeta wrapped his arm around my waist as I watched the cars drive off into the distance. It was a relief to see them off, but not necessarily because I was feeling all that lusty. More than anything, I wanted to strip off the dress and pull my hair from its pins. All of the innuendo had dampened my enthusiasm for more.

My new husband, however, had other plans.

“I think it's time for a swim,” he said, kissing the back of my hand.

“A swim?” I asked absently. “I guess I'll go get your swimsuit and change upstairs.”

“Oh, no,” he said with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “I have been dreaming of the day when we would be all alone out here long enough to have you bare in that lake with me, and short of the sky falling, I'm going to have my way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't hurt me....there is a smutty part 2 that will be posted ONLY on AO3 in a few days.


	21. Chapter 20 Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thanks to Chelzie for her beta work on this.

Chapter 20 Part 2

My thoughts of a chaste swim fled from my mind the very second that Peeta began tugging at his neck tie. Suddenly, the dress that had seemed to fit so well felt very tight and restrictive, but I couldn't for the life of me do anything but watch my husband as he shed one layer at a time. He tossed his expensive tie over the porch railing somewhere and didn't seem concerned in the least that the silk might get dirty. It seemed like such a silly thought to have when I was so aroused that I could hardly contain myself. His blue eyes sparkled with mischief. 

“Are you just going to stand around in that dress all day, or are you going to join me?” he asked as his shirt went flying off in a random direction as well. It had only been a week and a half since I saw those magnificent shoulders, but I felt like I was seeing them for the first time and my mouth went dry as a bone. He chuckled. “So I guess that standing around must have its merits.” 

“I didn't think you were supposed to tease your wife until after the honeymoon,” I muttered as I began to yank the pins from my hair. 

He grinned. “That's a rule I've never heard before.” 

“You'll have to help me with all of these buttons,” I told him, standing before him. 

“My pleasure,” he said as he began. His fingers caressed the skin that each little button exposed and he began kissing my lower back. I let out a low moan of desire as his tongue flicked against my flesh. “I think I will have to pace myself or you and I will never make it to the water.” 

“You're a tease,” I snapped. I stepped out of the dress and carefully laid it across the back of the rocking chair, eyeing Peeta's pants with annoyance. “And you're not exactly naked yet, either.” 

“The legs make it harder for me to get in and out of my pants on my own. I might need some help.” For the first time that day, he looked a bit self-conscious. Normally, I would have felt the stirrings of compassion at his plight, but this time I couldn't help but laugh. 

“After what you just did to me, do you really think I will mind stripping off your pants?” I asked incredulously. 

Peeta smiled sheepishly. “In that case...” 

He used the porch railing to pull himself up into a standing position, and I gave into the temptation to kiss him while we were such close heights. Wrapping his arms around my waist, his hands cupped my rear and I could feel the hardness of him pressing against me from beneath his pants. Peeta's tongue forced open my lips and I felt myself go lightheaded. He almost made me forget that I had a task to complete. My hands dropped to the waistband of his pants and I began to unbutton them. Peeta stumbled a bit at my touch, but righted himself quickly enough. 

“My God,” he murmured huskily, “You really don't mind.” 

“I don't.” 

As his cock poked out at me from his now falling drawers, I reached down and stroked its length. Peeta shivered a bit at my touch, and bit his lip. “Careful,” he whispered huskily. 

I didn't want to be careful. Not in the least. I wanted to make him come until his whole body was shaking. I wanted to make him feel like he had made me feel the night of his proposal. Suddenly feeling bold, I dropped to my knees before him and held his cock mere inches in front of my face as I began to stroke him. He breathed my name with shuddering breaths, but I could barely hear him over the rush of my own desire pulsing in my ears as I touched my lips to the tip. Peeta nearly lost his balance just then, yet still managed to hold tight to the railing while I began to run my tongue the whole way down to the base of him. Never before had I realized how bringing him such pleasure could get me so aroused. The more I sucked and licked, the more he reacted. The more he reacted, the more I felt heat building between my own thighs. 

“Stop!” he cried out finally. I pulled back, intending to protest, but before I could, Peeta settled himself back into his chair. “On my lap,” he commanded roughly. 

I guided him into me as I straddled him with my legs hanging over the wheels. His fingers dug into my sides as he pulled me into a rhythm. I moaned and clung to him like he was the very edge of a cliff. The bruises on the backs of my legs that I earned from the uncomfortable position didn't occur to me at that moment. I didn't care that I was likely to fall. All I cared about was how badly I wanted him. Our movements were frantic and ungraceful, and it was over quickly for both of us. After we reached our peak, I laid my head on his shoulder and breathed heavily. 

“Dear God,” Peeta murmured. “We should get married every day.” 

I chuckled. “You'd get tired of it.”

“Not a chance,” he swore, shaking his head. 

Burying my face in the curve of his neck, I bit him playfully. I would have stayed on his lap longer, but I finally noticed the ache that was beginning to build in my legs from resting on his wheels and the day was getting far too hot to be so close. With a sigh of irritation, I disentangled myself from my husband. 

“Still want to swim?” I shouldn't have bothered asking, and Peeta gave me a look that said as much in reply. 

Down at the lake, I watched Peeta hurl himself off the dock in his usual fashion. I didn't have to stop myself from admiring him in all of his nude glory. Seeing Peeta swimming was always a pleasant experience, but seeing him do it without clothing was another thing entirely. I perched myself on the edge and watched him moving below me. Before, I had only been able to see his arms, but now I got all of him. His strong shoulders and brawny chest were certainly worth watching, and I loved seeing the tightening of his stomach muscles as he moved. My eyes drifted lower as I watched him floating on his back, giving me a good view of the very male part of him nestled amongst dark blond hair and I felt myself start to blush. 

“Are you ever coming in?” he asked huskily. “I thought we were going to swim together.” 

“I'm just watching you for a bit,” I told him a bit shyly. 

He laughed. “I still don't know how you can actually like seeing what's left of me, but if you do, I can only be thankful. I would certainly like to be able to see more of you.” 

“You get to see more of me than anyone else,” I told him, feeling a bit more serious than the day warranted. 

“Get in the damn lake, wife.” Peeta splashed in my direction. I laughed and took a running start. Pulling my knees to my chest, I landed in the water close enough to him to send a tidal wave crashing over my husband’s head. He sputtered lightly and pushed the hair out of his eyes. “I guess you gave me what I asked for.” 

I grinned. “I did.” 

He reached a hand toward me and I pulled him in for a kiss. “You aren't the only one who thought about this,” I admitted. “I don't think you know what watching you swim did to me all those days.” 

“I can only imagine,” he said slyly. His hand dropped down my waist and found the core of my desire. I let out a little moan. “But I'm going to make you wait.” 

“Tease,” I ground out in frustration. 

He truly had meant what he'd said about making me wait. It also wasn't lost on me that he seemed to spend an awful lot more time floating on his back than he usually did. My husband was making a bid to drive me insane and doing a damn good job of it. We swam for about another hour before Peeta could be persuaded to leave the lake. 

After I managed to pull him from the water, we made our way back to what I had begun to think of as our tree. I laid a blanket and our towels down beneath it for us to lie on, and snuggled against his chest. My hands were pruned up and my hair had become a tangled wreck from our swim, but I knew that neither would make me any less appealing to Peeta. As if to prove my thought, his own wrinkled fingers began to explore my face carefully. 

“You really did look beautiful today,” he said softly. 

I nuzzled his neck lightly. “So did you.” 

“I always was the prettiest Mellark brother.” 

“I'm sure Matthew would disagree,” I teased. 

Peeta let out a groan. “His ugly mug is the last thing I want to think about today.”

“And just what do you want to think about?”

His blue eyes nearly met mine dead on and he smiled. “Just you.” 

He kissed me so sweetly that the world began to spin. Peeta always gave the best of himself to me and I could do no less. I kissed him back as I pulled myself up beside him. The time for waiting was over, I decided. He was my husband and I was going to make love to him until neither of us could move. I straddled his hips and began kissing and licking at his collarbone. 

“You really will be the death of me,” he muttered breathlessly. 

“No,” I told him firmly. “You aren't allowed to die—not ever. You're going to stay with me forever.” 

He chuckled. “So we're to be gods of our own little world? What Grecian goddess do I have sitting on top of me?” 

“I don't know anything about the Greeks or their gods,” I admitted.

“They were all horrible in their own way,” he informed me. “But we can rewrite the myths—after all, we are divinity.” He paused for a moment, deep in thought. Finally, he quirked a blond brow wryly. “We're Hephaestus and Aphrodite. The embodiment of love and beauty is dark in my version of the tale, and she loves her crippled husband despite of his deformities. They live happily with no Ares to tempt her away.” 

“No one could tempt me away,” I swore. “And I love my husband because of the man he is—crippled or not.” 

Our love making that afternoon was slower than the first time. Peeta's hands and lips trailed over every inch of my skin leaving me shivering despite the hot sun above us. Every time I tried to hurry things along, he would slow me back down, pulling my hands away from his cock. _Now_ , I thought, _he is going to be the death of me instead!_  

“Peeta, please,” I begged urgently. 

“Tell me what you want,” he demanded. To add emphasis to his words, he let his fingertips skim the inside of my thighs. I gasped at the touch and prayed for more, but he pulled back his hand. 

“I want you inside of me!” I cried out. 

“Gladly,” he agreed, looking far too pleased with himself. 

If I hadn't been on the very edge with passion, I would have walked away just to knock him down a peg or two. Instead, I parted my thighs wider and guided him into me. Peeta let out a guttural sound as he began to arch his hips into mine. I felt like I was melting into him as I moved, each motion sending shards of pleasure through my body. With a sharp cry, I reached my climax, sending Peeta into his own a second behind. I collapsed bonelessly on top of him. 

“I wish we could stay here forever,” I murmured against him. 

“We'll be back before you know it,” he told me, wrapping his arms around me. “And by the time we get back, maybe I will be functioning like half a man again.” 

Despite his teasing tone, his words shattered the moment for me. I pulled away from him and hugged my knees to his chest. “I wish you wouldn't say things like that.”

Peeta rolled to his side and propped himself up on his elbow. “I doubt I'll ever really stop completely, but I can try if my sense of humor annoys you.” 

“It's not your sense of humor; it's the way you cut yourself down,” I corrected. “You're more than half a man, Peeta.” 

“And I know that. You've shown me that what I've lost doesn't make me less of a person, but there will always be those that think it does. My mother taught me early on that the best way to defuse someone's ability to hurt you with their words was to say them before they got the chance,” he explained with a sad smile. 

“Well, your mother is an awful woman,” I spat out angrily. 

He shrugged. “But she's still my mother. And who knows, maybe the skill will come in handy someday.” 

“Just don't do it with me,” I told him flatly. “You're my husband and I love you just the way you are.” 

“If you love me even a tenth as much as I love you, then I am the luckiest man alive,” he said with a chuckle. “Who would have known that a trip to a freak show could turn out so well? Or that a lion man could marry a warrior princess?” 

I smiled smugly. “I did.”


	22. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

            Mellark House emptied of all its residents in just under a week after our wedding. Effie left two days later, taking Delly and Octavia right along with her. She claimed there was too much to be done in Pittsburgh before Peeta and I came for her to stay any longer. It was a lie that we all saw right through, but one that none of us called her out on. She had been so subdued since Mr. Mellark’s arrival that it was almost as if she was gone already.

            Mr. Mellark stayed on for another three days after that. The amazing part was that I actually came to enjoy his company. With fences mended between his youngest son and at least decently patched with his oldest, it turned out that Mr. Mellark was a very charismatic and open person. He kept me laughing every night at dinner with tales of his mischievous sons and even began reading _Treasure Island_ in the evenings—which he readily invited the servants to listen to. I could see his sons in him, and it warmed my heart to be near him. On the morning he left, Mr. Mellark kissed my forehead as he headed toward the door. He told me to be good, but gave me a wink that said he already knew I'd get into trouble. It surprised me that I would miss him.

            Our own departure came the very next day before I had time to bemoan the emptiness of the house. I made coffee and oatmeal in the morning for Peeta, Thresh and I, which we all ate in the kitchen together. It seemed a strange thing for the three of us to eat a meal together at the same table without Rue and Nola—who had both gone back home with Mr. Mellark and Thomas—to soften the silence; I tried my best to fill the void.

            “How long will it take us to get to Pittsburgh?” I asked between bites of the bland cereal.

            Thresh shrugged and toyed with the spoon in his bowl. “We'll be there come nightfall, if we don't stop much. If we do, we may end up stoppin' at one of the towns along the way and get there in the morning.”

            “At least we won't have Nurse Agnes along this time,” Peeta chimed in wryly. “I don't think I could have taken another trip where we stopped every thirty minutes or so.”

            Thresh grinned. “Auntie would say the Good Lord's done us a kindness with that one.”

            “Is that the nurse you ran off?” I asked my husband with a raised brow.

            “And I haven't missed her for a second,” he assured me with a wink. “In fact, her leaving was probably the best thing that could have happened to me. Maybe I should write her a thank you note.”

            “That woman would be more liken to burn it as soon as she saw your name on the envelope, Mr. Peeta,” Thresh joked before dipping his head back to his meal.

            Thresh excused himself without finishing his bowl to go load our bags into the car, leaving Peeta and I to clean up. I washed the dishes while he dried them and set them on the counter. Despite his smiles that morning, I knew that he was as nervous as I was about leaving. From the mulish look on his face, I could tell that in his mind he was a thousand miles away.

            “Nervous?” I asked simply.

            He forced a smile. “I'd be lying if I said I wasn't”

            “About the school?”

            “And other things,” he agreed. “Effie read me a letter from the school's headmaster before she left, and he seems reluctant to spare a teacher for me to take lessons in private. I guess reluctance is better than an outright refusal. Actually, I'm more worried about what Matthew has planned for me.”

            “You never mentioned any plans,” I said with a frown.

            “Didn't I? It's nothing too serious. He just wants to go over some of the finer points of management and find a suitable assistant for me before giving me free reign over the mines,” he explained. Smiling wryly, Peeta shook his head. “I just never pictured myself in the family business. From the time I was just a kid, it was always made perfectly clear to me that the business was meant to be left in Matthew’s and Luke's hands—never mine.”

            I touched his shoulder gently. “And I wasn't meant to be a nurse, but things worked out.”

            “They did,” he agreed, pulling me in for a deeper kiss.

            We left quickly after breakfast. Thresh seemed anxious to get on the road, though he didn't say so. He loaded the car so fast that I barely had time to pin on the hat that Effie had insisted I buy for the trip. For whatever reason, he seemed just as ready to leave town as Peeta was reluctant to leave it. I think somewhere outside the town limits a smile crept across his face like I had never seen before, but it wasn't a smile I shared. As I watched the outline of my home fade away in the rear window, I could feel a ball of nervousness forming in my gut and reached out for Peeta's hand.

            “It's not too late to turn around,” he said softly, squeezing my fingers.

            “No,” I said with a steadying breath. “That'd be hiding. I think I need to do this as much as you do. I've never been farther than the Rigley farm about ten miles out of town, and its high time I see more of the world—or even just the state.”

            Peeta smiled sadly. “Does it make me sound selfish if I say that I'm glad that I got the chance to travel before the war? In a way, it's easier to accept that I'll never see the world clearly again knowing just how much I got to see of it before. Sometimes, on a good night, I'll dream of the sky over the Mediterranean or of the quiet English countryside.”

            I ran my fingers down his jaw and lightly kissed his brow. “You’re the least selfish person I know.”

            “Not when it comes to you,” he countered with a chuckle. “I want you all to myself.”

            “What's it like to cross the ocean?” I asked, laying my head on his shoulder.

            “Amazing...and perhaps a bit intimidating. When you look at a globe or map, those little blue spaces don't really do much justice to the real thing. There comes a point when you can only see ocean all around you, and it makes you realize that in comparison to the Atlantic, you are nothing more than a speck. And then there's the sunsets—I really can't describe them in a way that will make sense. When the sky turns to red and orange with just a hint of blue and violet fading in, it’s like you're seeing the sky paint its own masterpiece,” Peeta explained with a wistful sigh. “I was eight when I saw it for the first time. We were traveling to Paris for a holiday with Aunt Effie, and I remember leaning against the railing and just watching the whole thing from start to end. My whole heart felt like it was so full of the beauty right in front of me that it made me want to share it with everyone. I swore that I'd become a great enough painter that I could recreate that moment. Well, I suppose you know the rest.”

            At that moment, if I could have taken my own eyes from my head and given them to him so that he could see perfectly again, I would have. I knew that the loss of his art was in some ways the greatest of his losses, and that nothing could restore what the war had taken. Winding my arms tighter around his middle, I buried my face against him. Suddenly, he let out a rough chuckle.

            “What's so funny?” I demanded.

            “Just thinking that I should be taking you somewhere beautiful for our honeymoon, not Pittsburgh,” he replied with a deepening laugh. “Somehow, I doubt you're going to think much of it.”

            “I never asked for anything fancy,” I reminded him.

            Peeta just shook his head. “All the more reason you deserve it.”

            The trip itself was just plain miserable. Though I had gotten used to the smell and noise of riding in the car, as the hours stretched on I was more than ready to escape its confines. Peeta—who was more used to long trips than I was—fell asleep within the first hour, his head resting against the wall.  I wriggled restlessly in the seat almost continually, and even the book I brought didn't help with the boredom.  I stared out the window at the trees and fields passing us by until my own eyes felt heavy.

            I awoke several hours later to the sight of a gray city looming in the distance settled between forked rivers that to my untraveled eyes looked so big they might as well have been the ocean. Papa had been here once when he was a young man and said that the reason there were so many bridges in the place was because people needed reassurance that there was actually a way out, and I soon saw why. As we closed in, I was first able to see towering buildings with what looked like giant chimneys poking out of them. Smoke billowed above the dismal, drab stone chimneys, giving the place an ominous look.  Thankfully, we turned away from the most awful looking part of the city and headed toward streets lined with oak trees and wrought iron fences around peaceful looking houses that seemed to get larger and larger.

            The house we stopped before was almost as monstrous as Mellark House, though in a different way. This house was a built of light brown stones that rose up into two twin spires on either side of the slate roof. There was no crisp white or spot of color to break up the dismal structure. I don't know why, but the place made me feel cold and uneasy. Unconsciously, I slid closer to Peeta who wrapped an arm around my waist.

            “It's been years since I've seen it, but I remember just how ugly this house is,” he murmured dryly. “Matthew bought it from some shipyard owner's widow, and I always got the impression that the place was gloomy by design—not that my brother seems to notice.”

            I let out a giggle. “I suppose it does kind of suit him.”

            “Large, ugly, and without an ounce of frivolity? Hmm, that does sound like him,” Peeta agreed with a hearty laugh.

            Much like he had back at Mellark House on my first day, Matthew suddenly appeared on the steps. He was dressed more casually than I had ever seen before, in a simple pair of pants and blue shirt that was open at the throat and without his usual vest and tie. I couldn't help but notice that something had changed about him since I'd seen him last, but I couldn’t say exactly what. He opened the door for me with his usual gentlemanly flair as Thresh started to untie the wheelchair.

            “Welcome to Pittsburgh,” Matthew said with a small smile.

            “Thank you,” I replied, staring up at the dozen or so stone steps leading to the doorway. I hoped Peeta wouldn't insist on pulling himself up them. They looked a lot less forgiving than the carpeted ones back home.

            As if he read my mind, Matthew pointed to a walkway leading around the house. “I had a ramp added on to the back porch.”

            “You didn't have to do that,” Peeta grumbled from behind me. He had just finished settling himself into his chair, and pushed himself toward us with a frown. “I told you not to go through any trouble.”

            “There are a great many things that I don't _have_ to do, little brother. I know you'll also find fault with the bedroom and bath I had added onto the first floor, but you'll just have to accept that I did it,” he said flatly, in a tone that made no bones about who the owner of the house was.

            My husband was clutching the arms of his chair in a way I hadn't seen since the beginning, and I knew instantly that things here weren't going to be as easy as I'd hoped. I swallowed hard and took a step toward the walkway. “I don't know about you boys, but I'm tired and hungry.” I suppose I must have said it plainly enough to indicate that they were acting like children, because neither of them said another word as we moved down the path.

            With Matthew pushing Peeta's chair in front of me, I was free to let my eyes roam the wonders hidden behind the gloomy house. I could hardly believe my eyes as the most beautiful garden I had ever seen came into view. Of the seemly endless blooms, I could maybe only name a few, but that didn't matter; they were still all fragrant and wonderful. I could only imagine how over the moon Prim would have been if she were there. I reached out and touched a rose bloom that was almost as big as my head. The wince that pinched Matthew's face as one of the petals fell was fleeting, but I caught it from the corner of my eye.

            “Did you grow them?” I asked with an arched brow.

            “Horticulture is a purely academic hobby of mine,” he replied stuffily.

            “What he means to say is that he finds plants relaxing, but is too ashamed to admit it,” Peeta cut in with a snigger.

            Matthew sighed heavily, but didn't deny his brother's accusation. “Let me show you to your room. I'm sure you're very tired.”

            He led us through the back entrance of the home directly into a bedroom. Though it was much smaller than the one we now shared back home, it was certainly no less luxurious. It was bright and airy with windows that went nearly from the floor to the ceiling, looking out into the impressive garden. From the pale blue walls to the Persian rugs that covered the pale wood floors, everything seemed as though it was designed to let as much light into the room as possible and give the impression that you were outdoors rather than in. To me, it seemed like an oasis, but my husband still looked less than pleased. Peeta pushed himself toward one of the large windows facing the garden and let out a disgruntled sigh.

            “You didn't just get this room finished,” he said flatly.

            “No,” Matthew admitted. “I told you from the start that I had no intention of letting you rusticate for the rest of your life and I meant it. The construction here started the same week you came home from the hospital.”

            “One of the few things that I haven't changed my mind on since I first came back is that my injury shouldn't become a burden on you or anyone else. You didn't need to do this,” Peeta growled.

            The elder Mellark let out a sardonic laugh. “And it wouldn't have been a burden at all to just cut you from my life... to never have my brother visit or to watch you haul yourself up the stairs the way you do when I have the resource it takes to solve those problems?”

            “I didn't mean it like that,” Peeta muttered, seemly taken aback.

            “Katniss, would you mind giving us a moment? The parlor is through the main hall, and Mrs. Paylor should be setting out some tea for you as we speak,” Matthew said, not waiting for my answer.

            I didn't need to be told twice. I hadn't been a part of the family long enough to feel right stepping in between the brothers. If there was one thing I had learned about the Mellarks thus far, it was that they seemed to work things out in their own timing. In the meantime, however, that left me all alone in a strange house. Thresh had disappeared the very second he set our bags aside, and I had no idea what to expect as far as the aforementioned Mrs. Paylor. I followed Matthew's directions to the parlor for a complete lack of anything else to do.

            Unlike the garden and our room, the rest of Matthew's home was as dismal as the outside suggested. It was all dark wood and dreary wine colored wallpaper. Unlike back at Mellark House, there weren't even any little personal touches to lighten the mood—no photographs lining the walls, nor well-loved books on the shelves. This house was merely a shell. I settled onto an uncomfortable couch and tried not to think the worst.

            Within only a few minutes of my arrival, a thin woman with dark hair pulled into a tight knot appeared bearing a silver tray. She gave me an unsure smile as she set the tray down, but said nothing.

            “You must be Mrs. Paylor,” I prompted uneasily. I'd never met anyone on terms like this before—with me being socially “above” someone. It wasn't a feeling I enjoyed. The idea that I was now one of “them” rather than a part of “us” felt like a rock in my stomach. Still, this was the path I had chosen when I married Peeta.

            “Yes, ma'am,” she replied evenly.

            “Please, call me Katniss,” I offered with the friendliest smile I could muster up.

            “Is there anything else that you would like before dinner, Mrs. Mellark?” Her expression didn't soften a bit and she continued to set out the tea. Unlike my earlier meeting with Nola, there was no common ground between us to break the ice.

            I shook my head and watched her retreating form leave the room. This place was nothing like home. I hadn't even been away for twelve whole hours and my heart already ached from missing the life I had known. Though things had changed at home, at least there they had known me as plain old Katniss Everdeen. Who was I going to be here?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thanks to Chelzie for sticking with me on this, as well as to everyone who has read this so far. I can't promise many updates for a while as I am about to be blessed with my fifth child very soon.... All I can promise is that I love this story too much to let it go. Thank you again for reading.


	23. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to Chelzie for being an amazing beta.

Chapter 22 

            I remember very little about my first night in Matthew's home. In fact, I found myself fighting to keep my eyes open through the late evening dinner the servants had set out for us. Luckily, Peeta was as tired as I was and seemed content to merely curl up together for a short while before falling into a deep sleep. I don't think either of us stirred until well after the sun was up and the birds were twittering in Matthew's “academic” garden outside of our window. 

            Pushing the sheets aside, I sat up with my legs crossed beneath me and stared down at my still dozing husband. Today, Dr. Aurelius was coming from the blind school to discuss what all could be done for Peeta. I hadn't said it aloud, but I think I was just as worried as he was. A million outcomes had played through my head in the days leading up to the visit, and I wasn't sure what our next move would be if things didn't work out. Being optimistic wasn't my natural way, but I needed to see hope in this situation. 

            “Should I hold still a bit longer so you can enjoy the view?” Peeta asked, barely cracking an eye. 

            I giggled and snuggled back against his shoulder. “Too late, you already ruined it.” 

            “I'll make it up to you.” 

            “I'm expecting no less than a pair of trousers out of it then,” I teased. Rather than laugh, Peeta tensed up. “What? I won't wear them out here in _society._ Effie already warned me about that.” 

            “It's not that. It's just I've done something you're not going to like very much,” he admitted nervously. 

            “What did you do?” 

            “Well,” he drawled, “I suggested that Effie take you to her favorite cafe this afternoon.” 

            I scowled. “But they are coming from...” 

            “From the school for the blind,” Peeta finished over me. “And that's just it. I don't need you or Matthew hanging over me for this. I want to show them that I am worth helping become independent... that I'm not some Quasimodo my family will just lock in a tower. I need to do this on my own.” 

            “So I am being pushed right out again,” I muttered, pulling away. 

            “It's not like that.” He shoved a hand through his hair and bit his lip. 

            “Then what is it, Peeta?” 

            “You don't know what this has been like for me, so don't you dare sit there and judge me for wanting to do this on my own,” he snapped. 

            “You're right,” I agreed flatly. “I don't know what it’s like for you. We've had this conversation before. Do you know what it's like for me though? Do you know how it feels to watch you struggle and want to help but not want to do everything for you? I have never done any of this before either, Peeta. Did it ever occur to you that you aren't the only one who needs an education?” 

            He was silent for a moment and then held out his hand. Kissing my fingers as they entwined with his, he pulled me back close to him. “You're right. I just...I want to separate you from this as much as possible. I want to be like any other husband who takes care of his wife, and maybe someday, children.” 

            “You take care of me in every way I need you to,” I assured him, leaning farther into his touch. “I need more than just any husband. I need you.” 

            “I never wanted you to see me fail, but you did when I tried to walk again. What if this is the same?” 

            “You said before that they were teaching you to read Braille before. And your hands work just fine,” I added without thinking. 

            Peeta chuckled. “My hands do work just fine. I think I need a bit of a refresher course, however, before I meet with the good doctor.” 

            Those skilled hands slipped beneath the nightgown I had donned out of respect for the fact that we were staying in Matthew's guest room. As his fingers skimmed my thighs, any thoughts I had of a chaste stay fled my mind. I yanked the fabric over my head and began to unbutton his pajama top. His lips crushed mine, sending waves of bliss throughout my body and I dug my fingertips into his shoulders. Just as I started to work at untying his pants, a knock came at the door, ruining the moment. 

            Peeta grumbled a curse under his breath, but recovered much better than I did. “Yes?” he called out. 

            “Sir, a visitor just arrived and Mr. Mellark would like you and your wife to meet him in the library,” Mrs. Paylor's voice came from the other side of the door. 

            “Who is it?” he asked, letting the annoyance slip into his voice. 

            “Miss Mason.” The reply was followed by sharply retreating footsteps. 

            “Christ,” Peeta swore and began tossing the covers from his body. “We need to get out there before one of them kills the other.” 

            “Who is Miss Mason?” I asked, bewildered. 

            “Johanna was another family friend for years. She and Matthew have a rather _difficult_ past,” he said, swinging himself into his chair. 

            I wasn't quite sure what I would find in the breakfast room that morning. At first glance, the woman seated beside Matthew when we arrived a few minutes later didn't seem all that interesting. She was a tall brunette with dark, almond shaped eyes and bangs that framed her forehead perfectly. Miss Mason was beautiful in an unconventional way, but not classic by any means. I think I disliked her a little at first. She eyed me with a smirk and a bit of disdain as I followed Peeta in. 

            “Well, well, little Peeta Mellark goes to war, gets blown to pieces, and then gets married,” she drawled tartly. “It sounds like something from some dime novel that idiot housewives would bawl over.” 

            The color left Matthew's face instantly—and I imagine mine, too—but Peeta let out a hearty laugh. “I've missed you too, Jo.” 

            “And I must say that for a blind man, you certainly found a pretty enough wife,” she continued on without acknowledging that she’d heard him. 

            “Johanna, I'd like you to meet my wife Katniss. Katniss, this is Johanna Mason—the only woman I know who can drink Matthew under the table and swear in twelve languages while wearing a ball gown,” Peeta told me in a stage whisper. 

            “That was only once and I am convinced that she was dumping half of her scotch into the fern,” Matthew chimed in grumpily. 

            Johanna let out a snort. “And there is the old Mellark pride talking.” 

            “Care to stay for breakfast?” Matthew asked, brushing her jibe aside. 

            “No, I've already eaten. I have to work today,” she replied curtly. 

            “Work?” I asked before I could stop myself. 

            “You know, when you actually accomplish something more than hiding behind your husband in a day. You should try it sometime, darling.  Though I don't recommend coming to the Red Cross, because we already have more than enough meddling twits making a mess of things,” she added caustically. 

            In my whole life, I had never met anyone more abrasive than I was. In fact, it took me a minute to think of anything to say. Though, when I did, I knew I would come to regret it. 

            “I'm a nurse,” I blurted out. 

            Johanna blinked for a second as though she couldn't believe what she had just heard. “Then we really do need you. I can come by and take you down the headquarters tomorrow if you think you can manage it.” 

            “Sweet Lord, Johanna, let the woman get her bearings in town before you have her roped into one of your infernal projects,” Matthew cut in, saving me. “Give Katniss at least a week, then you can drag her in on whatever march or committee you’re planning next.” 

             “All right then, next week.” She cracked a sly smile, and without another word she turned to the door, leaving a stunned room in her wake.           

            “Is she always like that?” I asked. 

            Matthew let out a snort of laughter and sunk into his chair. “No. In fact, she's usually worse. A few years ago, she chained herself to a polling station during the local elections. The police were called in to diffuse her and the situation, and I believe she spent a few days in jail.” His eyes locked on to mine and all of the humor had bled out of them. “Try not to get too close to Johanna. What’s fun for a while normally leads to more trouble and chaos than it’s worth.”           

            After breakfast and a telephone call to Effie to cancel lunch, Peeta and I began a very tense wait in Matthew's study. Sensing his brother's desire to be in command, the elder Mellark had his chair removed so that Peeta could easily roll up to the massive mahogany desk. I had brought a book with me to pass the time for both of us, but after a few minutes of reading, it became obvious that he wasn't listening to me. He was staring toward the window where the bright morning light was spilling in over the carpet _._ I put the book aside and watched him for a moment. Seeing him sitting there with the wheelchair hidden and in his second finest suit, I was again reminded that this was the role Peeta had been born to play and perhaps, with the help of this new school, could someday play again. 

            “Why did you want to be a politician?” I asked suddenly. 

            “I don't know. I think my reasons were kind of stupid now,” he admitted with a heavy sigh.

            “But what were they?” I asked again, not accepting his answer. 

            “I think I wanted to be someone that my family could be proud of for once, and just maybe I wanted to do some good in this world.” He pinched the bridge of his nose in irritation. “I was very naive.” 

            “There's nothing wrong with any of that,” I told him honestly. 

            He shrugged. “Not that it matters now. I don't think many people would be willing to vote for a man who can't even stand on his own two feet.” 

            “You don't know that. Not everyone is going to judge you for what you can't do. Who knows, maybe people would only see how you could make changes for the better?” I suggested. 

            “Able-bodied or not, I don't think I would want to go into politics now. After seeing a war first hand, I doubt I could ever make the decision to send other men into one—not even when it would be the right choice.” 

            “Is war ever the right choice?” I asked with a frown. 

            “I still believe in what I went to war for, Katniss. I believe this country is worth protecting even if the cost is blood...my own included,” Peeta said with a sad smile. 

            “No.” 

            “What was that?”

            I had said the word so softly that it barely made a sound, even to my own ears, but as the seconds passed, it got stronger. “No. You've given enough.” 

            “It's a moot point. There's not much use for me as a soldier, so there really isn't any reason to get upset,” he soothed. But he was missing something big. 

            “Your blood and my blood just might become one someday, and I will be damned if I let anyone spill so much as a drop of it. Do you hear me? No. Never.” I didn't realize that I was shouting or that I had stood up until my knees began to quake beneath me. 

            “Katniss, I...” 

            “Don't.” I took a breath and dropped back into my chair. 

            A silence stretched between us for a long while. Peeta was again staring out the window and all I could seem to do was watch the clock ticking down. I can't say why I needed him to promise me that he would never let our imaginary children go off to war, but I did. From Gale to what Peeta had given up, I had seen enough of war. It was selfish to wish misfortune safely away from myself and into other houses and I knew it. The problem was that I couldn't help myself. 

            Dr. Aurelius arrived exactly ten minutes early. From the office, I could hear Mrs. Paylor greeting him in the front hall, and I had to resist the urge to hurry out to meet him. Listening to the footsteps sound ominously down the hall, I watched Peeta's face turn to a veil of stony determination and knew that now wasn't the time to be the strong one for him. He had been right about that much. 

            A gentle knock came to the door. “Mr. Mellark, there is a Dr. Aurelius and a Mr. Odair to see you.” 

            “Send them in, Mrs. Paylor,” Peeta called imperiously as he straightened a tie that was already straight. 

            Through the door came two men. The elder was almost grandfatherly looking with hair that had faded beyond gray and was heading to white. His clothes were a bit rumpled but clean and his glasses sat a bit cockeyed on his face, giving him the look of absent-mindedness. The first thing I noticed about the younger man was that he was holding on to the other's arm and had a cane grasped in his free hand. The second thing I noticed was that he had the sort of looks that were usually reserved for the actors featured in the photobooks that Prim managed to get her hands on every now and again. He was tall and athletically thin with unruly wheat colored hair and eyes that seemed to remain half open and fixed on nothing. It struck me then just how neatly he was dressed in contrast to the other man. 

            “Gentlemen, thank you for meeting with me today. I am Peter Mellark and this is my wife, Katniss,” Peeta introduced, sounding very much like his older brother. He held out his hand a bit awkwardly toward them, and the older was the first to shake it before guiding his counterparts hand into Peeta's. 

            “I am Dr. James Aurelius and this is Mr. Finnick Odair—one of the teachers we employ at the school,” he supplied. “And I must say that this is quite an unusual turn of events for us.”  
  
            “So I have heard,” my husband agreed. “Please, have a seat.” 

            The doctor righted his glasses nervously. “If you don't mind me asking, Mr. Mellark, I would like to know why it is you contacted us rather than finish your training at the military facilities.”           

            “My family wished for me to continue my recovery in more familiar surroundings,” Peeta answered diplomatically before pausing for a moment. “I suppose that was _how_ I was able to leave the hospital so soon. The _why_ had more to do with my own lack of confidence. I couldn't see how to make my life worth anything having to live like this. Without my legs and my sight, I didn't think that I could achieve much of anything on my own.” 

            The previously silent and stoic Mr. Odair smiled widely. “And then your lovely wife convinced you otherwise?” 

            “She did.” Peeta's grin made my heart ache. I wanted to reach out and grab his hand, but wasn't sure if it was dignified to do so at a time like this. Back home, I wouldn't have hesitated, but I wasn't at home. The rules had changed for us, so I simply sat there like I thought a well brought up woman would have. 

            Not a full moment later, Mrs. Paylor arrived bearing a tray full of refreshments and I was faced with my second trial of the meeting. Before we were married, Effie had done her best to give me a quick introduction to the life of a society wife. I had mostly ignored her, but as I shakily reached for the teapot, I regretted that decision. For all of her fussiness, Effie had been right: people were going to judge Peeta based on how I acted. My hands broke out in a sweat at the thought, and I had to force away the sudden tremor that had started in my fingers. 

            “Can I pour you a cup of tea, gentlemen?” I asked, trying to sound more like Effie and less like myself. 

            All three agreed, to my horror. I knew that it was the wrong thing to do, but I poured Peeta's first simply because I knew how he liked it and it seemed the least daunting. 

            “Mr. Odair, do you take cream and sugar?” 

            “Just sugar.” 

            “One lump or two?” I asked, feeling somewhat better about the task. 

            “Four, if you don't mind,” he replied with a roguish grin. 

            “Your teeth are going to rot right out of your head.” I hadn't thought before I spoke—a constant complaint of Effie's—and I could feel the humiliation flooding my face immediately. 

            Thankfully, Mr. Odair seemed more amused by my comment than offended. He let out a smoky laugh, and gave me a smile that revealed that not only did he have his teeth, but that they were straight and pearly white. Mischief shone in his eyes despite their lack of focus. “You wouldn't deny a blind man the simple pleasures in life, would you?” 

            Peeta nearly choked on his tea. 

            “I should put salt in your tea,” I grumbled as I doled out the sugar. 

            The rest of the meeting went by quickly, but I didn't hear all that much of what was said. How strange that a week ago I would have thought nothing about running off into the woods alone with nothing more than my boots and rifle, and now here I was, practically shaking in my seat over a cup of tea? I could see the dim reflection of who I was about to become if I stayed on this path and it made me sick to think of it. I think it was in that moment when I started to truly hate Pittsburgh.


	24. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Catching Fire release day! Much love to Chelzie for being both an amazing beta and friend.

Chapter 23 

            I wasn't expecting Finnick Odair. Not once did I ever imagine that a person like him even existed...let alone would waltz through the door at exactly eight in the morning the next day and strut in his fancy suit down the hall with no more than his cane swinging out in front of him to guide him as he brushed aside Mrs. Paylor's aid. I was standing halfway down the staircase as he passed with my mouth wide open in awe. 

            He paused just beside the stairs and turned slightly my way. “Why, Mrs. Mellark, you aren't wearing perfume. How scandalous.”

             I hadn't yet found my voice as he continued on to meet an unsuspecting Peeta in the library. During our meeting with Dr. Aurelius, it had been implied that he would be the one teaching Peeta. The idea of a kind, scholarly teacher seemed right. Mr. Odair, on the other hand, seemed like a real snake oil salesman. I didn't trust him and I doubted, especially after his little comment the day before over tea, that Peeta did either. I balled my fists on either side of me and frowned after him uselessly for all I was worth.

             Peeta didn't want me too involved in his rehabilitation. In a way, I could respect that. I was no stranger to the suffocating need to stand on your own when it seemed that the earth was crumbling beneath your feet. Still, it was hard to go from being so central in his life and his daily routine to not being “needed” anymore. I didn't want him to have to depend on me, but I kind of liked that he needed something I had to offer. Was that such a wrong thought? Well, it felt like it was. I literally had to force my legs to carry me away from the library and to the front drive where a car was waiting for me.

             I think it may have been a sign of just how desperate I was at the time that I actually was relieved when Effie's driver came to pick me up for brunch at her house. Sitting in her fussy dining room eating off of china with golden rims and delicate little flowers somehow felt more relaxing than anything had since I arrived in Pittsburgh. At least I knew what Effie expected of me—even if I failed to meet most of those expectations. I greedily drank my third cup of coffee with the knowledge that my hostess would probably comment on it, but she didn't.

             Instead, Effie filled my cup from the silver pot and smiled widely. “I really wasn't certain you'd make it today, dear,” she said finally, looking away.

             “Why not?” I asked, taking a larger bite of toast than I knew was proper.

             “Oh, I don't know. It seems once people in this family get back to the real world, they tend to forget about me,” Effie sighed heavily. “Matthew has lived in this city for almost nine years now and only made it to dinner once. Of course, our paths cross at one function or another quite frequently, and I suppose for him that is enough time with his meddling aunt. And Peeta—well, he was at school for so long and then the war. I really can't fault either of them.” She hurried up and took a sip of her coffee, seemingly stopping herself from saying more.

             “I know Peeta missed you when we were back home,” I half-lied. Peeta loved his aunt; that much I knew for sure.

             Effie let out an airy laugh. “You really don't have all that far to go before you're ready for next Friday night after all.”

             “Next Friday night?” Dread filled my stomach.

             “Didn't my nephews tell you?” She blinked in surprise. “I am hosting a small dinner party at Matthew's request—you know, just a few close friends—to celebrate Peeta's homecoming and your wedding. There will only be about twenty or so people coming, but most of them are quite influential. Why, there will be the Van Hautes and the Masons....”

             I stopped listening as she continued on about each family or couple that would be coming. A dinner party? I had barely gotten used to eating in a real dining room and eating full meals. More often than not, I put my elbows on the table and forgot which fork was for which course. I had never thought for a second that I would actually be expected to attend something like this.

             “And that is why we are going shopping today,” Effie announced, breaking my train of panicked thought.

             “What? Shopping?”

             “You seem awfully distracted today, Katniss. Is everything alright?” she asked with a slight frown.

             “Just fine,” I murmured, feeling numb.

             Shopping with Effie turned out to be a full-fledged campaign that any general would admire. She took on the boutiques like we were laying siege to a castle. First, it was a shop nearest to her home in Shadyside. It wasn't as high class as I was expecting, but I soon found out what drew Effie to them. The exteriors were rather plain and ordinary looking amongst the rows of brick and stone wedged side-by-side, but the wares were high quality that even I could see. Effie was immediately greeted enthusiastically by the proprietress and the two began speaking in another language at a rapid fire pace.  Before I knew it, I was being whisked behind a changing screen by a woman with a heavy accent.

             “Do not be shy, _ma cherie_. Let Madame Portia teach you how to dress like _la grand belle_ you are,” she said dramatically as she took my hands into hers.

             “You're Madame Portia?” I asked, biting my lip.

             “ _Oui_.” She smiled at me as if I was an idiot and barked out an order in French. As she turned to leave, she looked back at me with a cat like gleam in her eyes. “You and I are going to be good friends.”

             We left almost two hours later with so many boxes that Effie's driver couldn't even fit them all into the car. Madame promised to have the rest delivered later in the week. There were so many gowns, skirts, dresses, and blouses that I doubted I would ever need to shop again. Still, I knew better than to hope we were done because we weren't even out the door before Effie began listing off all of the things I still needed. In the end, we visited a total of seven shops and scheduled no less than thirteen deliveries to be made later in the week. I didn't even want to know how much money we had spent. In Effie's opinion, we had been quite frugal and hadn't even come close to the sum Peeta had alotted her for the day's spending.

             My head felt like it was going to cave in on itself by the time I was headed back to Matthew's house at the end of the day. All I wanted was to change into a pair of pants and disappear into the dense cover of the forest, but I was a long way from the wilderness. I would have given anything at that moment for just a bit of home—for Mellark House and for Prim, Doc, and Nola. I didn't think much of prayers at the time, but little that did I know that, in a way, mine were about to be answered.

             As we pulled into the drive, I noticed a familiar form trimming the hedge. Thresh was hard at work with sweat pouring down his face in the hot sun. He was dirty and probably stinking, but I had to stop myself from hugging him. We might not be particularly close, but he was a part of home. He looked up at me casually from his work. “Afternoon, Miss Katniss,” he said, wiping his brow with a handkerchief.

             “I thought you'd gone to Philadelphia.”

             He shook his head. “Mr. Matthew thought there might come some times when Mr. Peeta might need me.”

             “They should have let you go home,” I said, suddenly feeling very sad that, like me, he was on his own. “I'm sure we could have gotten by without you, and I know Nola and Rue must miss you.”

             “You're probably right. I expect there are a lotta things that folks get by without, but jus’ because you can get by without somethin’ doesn't mean you wouldn't be doin' better with it at hand,” he told me with a sharpness in his eyes that about made me squirm. “I'll be here when Mr. Peeta needs me—and for you, too, Miss Katniss.”

             I swallowed hard and nodded. “Thank you.”

             Thresh's gaze suddenly darted to a pair of women standing on the sidewalk. They stared at us with ice cold eyes, but it didn't occur to me exactly what they were finding wrong. Thresh wasn't nearly as naive.

             “Yes, Ma'am. I be real sure to cut 'em jus' how you likes this time,” he said loudly, dropping his gaze to his shoes. I opened my mouth to ask just what the hell he was doing, but then I noticed the satisfied expressions of the old biddies. Rage boiled in my blood, and it must have shone in my eyes.

             “Jus’ go on inside, Miss Katniss. Don't let it bother you,” Thresh whispered, still not looking up from the ground.

              _Don't let it bother me?_ I wanted to scream. How could I not let it bother me? Those old cows should burn in Hell. Thresh was my friend. I didn't see a color when I thought of him, or Nola, or Rue. It sickened me that people could treat him like he was less than human, not even worth talking to on equal terms. In fact, I was so angry that I was numb as I walked to the house just like he told me to. I hoped I never saw those women again.

             Back inside, I stared down the hall at the closed door to the study. I wondered if they were done or whether I would be interrupting. Then it hit me: I had just been told, in one manner of speaking, what I could or could not do since before the wedding and that was enough. “To hell with it,” I muttered as I stormed down the corridor.      

            With a determined grimace, I opened the door expecting to find them pouring over a book. Instead, they were sitting on either sides of a small table moving pieces across a board. The strange thing, though, was that Peeta had his neck tie wrapped over his eyes. Feeling curious, I took a cautious step toward them, using my lightest hunting steps. 

            “So what did you do when he found you?” Peeta asked once Mr. Odair had taken his turn. 

            “Oh, I told him that I had absolutely no idea that I had stumbled upon his wife's boudoir, nor that she was sprawled naked on the bed until I had stumbled in it,” the teacher replied with a self-amused chuckle. “He then had to choose between being gullible or cuckold by a blind man. Apparently, it's less degrading to be an idiot.”

            Peeta laughed and reached for the board, feeling each piece before his hands found the one that he was looking for and then traced the carved lines that bordered the spaces. I had to admit that the board itself was a bit ingenious. Chess was a pastime that I had assumed was lost to the blind from the start, but I was starting to realize that maybe there was more for Peeta to learn than I had supposed. 

            “One of the first rules of etiquette when dealing with the blind, Mrs. Mellark,” Mr. Odair drawled, barely cocking his head to my position, “Is to always announce yourself when you enter a room. Sneaking around makes one wonder what exactly it is you're hiding.” 

            “Katniss,” Peeta called out cheerily with a smile that was nothing short of brilliant. 

            Despite my husband's warm greeting, heat flooded my cheeks. “How did you know it was me and not Mrs. Paylor?” I demanded childishly. 

            “She walks like a servant: quiet, quick steps that come and go with purpose. You, on the other hand, were fairly loud coming down the hall until you reached the door. It wasn't until you were curious that you decided to lighten your step,” he answered, still smirking. 

            “I didn't hear her at all,” Peeta marveled.           

            “Like I told you earlier, Peeta, it isn't your hearing that needs to improve, but your listening. Part of what I'm going to teach you is how to take the thousands of little clues around you and turn them into a picture, so to speak. Now, for instance, I'd like you to tell me about the room we're in,” he commanded, sounding for the first time to me like he actually was teaching.

             Peeta's shoulders shrank just a bit. “Well, I don't remember much of what it looked like from before. The wood was dark cherry...I think.”

             “If I wanted to know what the room looked like, I would have asked the only person in this room with two fully functioning eyes,” Mr. Odair told him pointedly. “I asked you to tell me about this room. There is much more to a description than just how a place or person looks. From what you can tell now, which side of the house are we on?”

             “I don't know. The west, maybe?” Peeta half-answered, half-asked.         

            Mr. Odair looked satisfied enough by the reply. “How do you know?" 

            “It feels like the sun has been getting warmer on this side of the room since we've been in here.” 

            I kept silent as Mr. Odair led Peeta step-by-step through providing a pretty darn accurate layout of the room using their remaining senses. It was a pretty impressive process, and each detail made me a bit more proud of what Peeta was learning to do. For example, the clock in the room had a rather loud tick that came from the south end of the room—using the windows to establish the cardinal direction—and echoed off of the hardwood flooring, which indicated that it was higher off of the ground. From that, they learned two things: first that it was safe to assume that the clock was on the mantle, thus above a fireplace, and second that the room was quite large. To me, it was just a small ticking but to the well-tuned ears of a blind person, the clock was a valuable landmark. 

            “That's amazing,” I said when they had finished their deductions. 

            Mr. Odair shrugged arrogantly. “Given time, figuring things like that out can become second nature—almost as easy as opening your eyes. Speaking of which, Peeta, you can untie the blindfold. We're done for the day.” 

            “Thank God,” Peeta sighed, not needing anymore prompting to free what remained of his vision. “I can't imagine spending the rest of my life in complete darkness.” Immediately, he stilled and opened his mouth to amend his faux-pas, but Mr. Odair gave him no chance. 

            “I can think of far worse fates,” he commented without a trace of bitterness. “It's been so long that I don't even remember what it’s like to see anything at all.” 

            “How long have you been blind?” I asked boldly. 

            “That's an awfully bold question for someone I'm not even on a first name basis with.” With a roguish grin, he leaned back in the chair like a king. “Call me Finnick.” 

            “I'm sorry if I offended you, _Finnick_ ,” I grumbled. Whatever good will had been building toward him had faded away. 

            “No offense taken, _Katniss,”_ he assured me. “I was five when I came down with a very high fever. In the morning I started out with a bit of a headache, by the next evening, I was near comatose. When I woke four days later, I was completely blind.” 

            “That must have been terrible for you as a child,” I murmured softly. Just the thought of a small child waking up in total darkness made my stomach clench. I knew pity was the wrong thing to feel right then, but it hit so suddenly that I had to actually force it away. Finnick didn't deserve my pity—not one single ounce of it. He didn't feel sorry for himself, I didn't think, so why should I? He didn't just live independently, he was teaching others to do it, too. 

            Finnick shrugged. “In some ways, it's easier for a child” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his watch, running his fingers across the face of it. “And on that note, I promised that I would be back in time to read to some of the younger children after dinner time. We can't leave off with poor Jim still in the apple barrel, now can we?” 

            After Finnick was gone, Peeta and I stayed behind in the study not saying much of anything. I watched as he turned one of the knights over and over again in his hands for what seemed like forever. A look of such deep concern was etched on his face that I didn't really know what to make of it. From what I could tell, he was off to a good start with his lessons and Finnick turned out to not be the complete cad that I'd thought he was. I couldn't imagine what had Peeta so detached. 

            “I asked Finnick to come back to the summer house with us,” he told me finally. “You wouldn't believe the amount of money I offered him to do it, but he said no. I'm sorry.” 

            “Don't be. I agreed to come with you,” I reminded us both. 

            Peeta nodded. “You did, but I never imagined you'd be as miserable here as you are.”

            “I'm not miserable.” 

            “Please don't lie to me.” His eyes moved over the outline of my face nervously. “You haven't even sounded like yourself since we've been here. This is all my fault and I know it, and I feel terrible because even knowing how unhappy you are, I'm still glad to be here.” 

            I sighed and wrapped my arms around my waist. “I'm not made for dinner parties and ball gowns.” 

            “I never asked you to change,” he said sadly. 

            “But if I am going to be your wife, I need to.” 

            “Why?” he asked, holding out his hands. 

            I instinctively put my hands in his and somehow just that little bit of touch made me feel better. “I don't want to embarrass you.” 

            “And when have you ever cared about what people thought?”

            “When it hurts you.” 

            Peeta tightened his hold on my hands. “Listen to me very carefully because I am only going to tell you this once: You are my wife because I love you for who you are, not who anyone else wants you to be. I know that with my disability, people are going to look differently at me now, and you are the one who taught me that I am enough just the way I am. I wish you could see that in yourself. So maybe a few eyebrows are going to be raised here and there? Do you think they have the power to hurt me more than knowing that you are miserable and putting on a face for their benefit?” 

            “I guess you're right,” I agreed reluctantly. “But don't you need to impress these people so that they'll do business with you?” 

            “No,” he answered firmly. “They need to impress us. Maybe years ago when my father was first starting out that mattered, but not now. We earn too much money for them. They come to us to avoid being swallowed up by the Fricks and the Carnegies of the world. Propriety is only a second language to these people, and the first is money.” 

            I let out a breath that I hadn't realized I had been holding. “I would hate to be the one to bring down the Mellark Empire of Superiority,” I teased. 

            “Katniss: Destroyer of the American Aristocracy. I think that should be your full title now,” he told me with a wide grin. 

            I leaned in to kiss him. At first, I intended it to be only a sweet, quick kiss, but it seemed my husband had other ideas as he parted my lips with his tongue and pulled me into his lap. Any stress that remained melted out of my body the instant he tossed aside my skirt and worked his way up past where my silk stockings ended. His fingertips on my skin instantly brought on an almost mind-numbing rush of heat. 

            “We can't do this here,” I mumbled before my senses left me. 

            “Yes, we can. Matthew isn't due back for hours and Mrs. Paylor won't dare open that door without an invitation,” he growled. “Get back in that chair and part your legs for me.” 

            The command was unlike him. It sounded so rough and full of heat, not the gentle loving I was used to. Maybe that was what excited me so much about it. I lifted my skirt and did away with my underthings, hands trembling with desire. Peeta pushed himself from his chair and slid it away. Before I could question exactly what he was about to do, he forced my legs open wider and settled himself between them. 

            “I've been dying to taste you,” he murmured before lowering his lips to me. I gasped as his tongue flicked across the most sensitive spot. “But now that I have you, I want to play a little game.” 

            “A game?” I whined. 

            “I want to see how long it takes before you scream for me.” 

            His eyes sparkled with mischief as he went back to torturing me with long, slow movements. Knowing that I couldn't make a sound if I wanted to be even the least bit discreet only heightened the sensations of it. I was suddenly aware of every little motion and every little sound. Digging my fingernails into his shoulders, I willed myself to remain silent as he began to suckle on me. I shuddered as I felt the waves of pleasure quicken. It took every ounce of discipline I had to muffle my cry through my clenched teeth as Peeta's tongue sent me to a dazzling high. 

            Chuckling, he laid his head on my thigh. “Don't think you've won yet,” he remarked cockily. 

            “Oh, I know I've won,” I replied breathlessly. 

            Funny thing was, for the first time since arriving in Pittsburgh, I felt like I actually had.


	25. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, a HUGE thanks to Chelzie for beta'ing this and putting up with my crazy. Also, to JennaGill and ModernLifeofAsh: THANK YOU for reading over this and convincing me not to hit delete on this. All of you ladies are amazing!

Chapter 24

I remember reading a description of sharks circling the survivors of a shipwreck once long ago. It was chilling to think of those poor men struggling to swim while watching large, gray predators moving around them, waiting for just one drop of blood before starting their grisly frenzy. As I walked down the stairs on Matthew's arm into Effie's foyer that Friday evening, I could see the sharks begin to circle and knew that I was the intended feast they were waiting for. Effie had insisted that it would be better for me to make “ _an entrance_ ” rather than just greeting guests downstairs with her and Peeta, but right then I would have given anything for his steady calm at my side as nearly two dozen eyes stared up at me.

“Breathe,” Matthew whispered in my ear.

I looked up at him and tried to paste on a smile. Breathing didn't feel like much of an option at the moment. Between the corselette that Octavia had helped me stuff myself into and the butterflies in my belly, I felt a tad light headed. And then I saw Peeta roll himself into the foyer and smile up at me. Just like at the wedding, I could tell the exact moment when he could make me out. His smile widened and I felt air in my lungs for the first time in what felt like forever.

In that moment, I knew that I had been right to demand to wear the dress I had chosen against Effie's wishes. It was a stunning—even in my uneducated opinion—formal dinner gown with tiny capped sleeves just off my shoulders and beading that went down the front, emphasizing my lack of cleavage, and a silk sash that accented my waist. The gown was very fashionable, I'd been told, but the color was all wrong. It was red—and not just any red, but the bright red of a ripe apple with crystals and beads that gleamed, reminding me of drops of dew in sunlight. Madame Portia hadn't so much as batted an eye when I requested fiery tones for my wardrobe, but both Effie and Octavia had been aghast when I showed it to them. I was painting myself as a scarlet woman, according to the two of them, but I didn't care so long as Peeta could pick me out in a crowd.

“You're beautiful,” he said as soon as I hit the last stair.

“Thank you,” I replied through lips that felt drier than dust.

“Katniss, there are several people I'd like you to meet,” Peeta announced, suddenly reminding me of what I had been dreading.

The sharks filtered by in front of us in near perfect two by two order. I tried to remember the names and faces in front of me, but by the fourth couple, I was lost. I did the only thing I could do and tried my best to emulate the proper responses that Effie had been drilling into my head for the last three days. I must have been doing at least a decent job of it, because no one commented on it. Most of the folks I was introduced to looked more curious about me, although Peeta was the one they showed the most obvious discomfort toward. The worst of them talked so loudly that I almost had to take a step back to stop my ears from ringing while others looked over Peeta's shoulder or at their shoes to avoid looking at him. But Peeta managed to smile through it all. Thankfully, one of the last people in line was a familiar face.

“If I didn't know any better, I would swear there was padding in the shoulders of your jacket,” Miss Mason drawled as she arrived on the arm of a dark haired young man.

“Johanna!” the man hissed in a warning tone, blushing as only a teenager could.

Miss Mason laughed. “Katniss, I'd like you to meet my charming younger brother, Blight—I mean, Benjamin Mason.”

Mr. Mason barely acknowledged me before turning his attention back to Peeta. “It's good to have you back, Peeta,” he said, clapping my husband on the shoulder enthusiastically. “I knew those good for nothing Krauts couldn't keep you down. They're just lucky they got you before you snatched that helmet right off the Kaiser's head.”

Before Peeta could reply, a murmuring sounded from the doorway. All eyes turned toward the pair of men who had just arrived. One was fair and one was dark, but both were undeniably handsome and well dressed. I didn't recognize either man, but it was obvious that everyone else did and no one seemed too happy to see them. Matthew looked like he wanted to gut the pair and even Effie looked horrified as they strode into the room.

“What's the matter?” Peeta asked.

“It seems your worthless brother and his toadie have decided to grace us with their presence,” Mr. Mason answered bitterly.

I glanced at the pair again and had no trouble telling which of the men was a Mellark. My brother-in-law was tall and much more slender than his brothers, but his blond hair and defined jaw were enough to give him away. There was something about him that was almost familiar beyond the resemblance to Matthew and Peeta though. And then it hit me: Luke Mellark looked a lot like the painting that hung from the stairway back at Mellark house. The thought was somewhat unnerving.

“I didn't know your brother was even in town,” I said to Peeta.

“Neither did I. I haven't seen him in almost five years, not since...” Suddenly the color drained from Peeta's face. “Oh God, Jo, I swear I didn't know he was going to be here.”

Johanna shrugged. “I'd never accuse you of conspiring to get the three of us all under one roof again. Anyway, it doesn't really matter to me all that much. Luke could be on the other side of the room or burning in Hell for all I care. I would worry more about whether or not you will be the sole heir to the Mellark millions once the two of them finish with each other.”

I wanted to ask exactly what had happened between them all, but it wasn't the right time. Without so much as stopping to pay his respects to his aunt as hostess, Luke was heading our way with a determined fire in his blue eyes. The Masons muttered their excuses as soon as he drew near, but I could tell from the look that passed between Luke and Johanna that there was an old debt she would be settling very soon.

“I see the stories of your return weren't exaggerated, little brother,” Luke drawled as stopped before us. Though there was a smug smirk tugging at his lips, there was a look in his eyes that I couldn't exactly place. It almost looked like relief.

“I'm alive and mostly well despite the Germans' efforts,” Peeta agreed tightly. “Was Aunt Effie expecting you tonight or did you decide it would be more fun to cause a stir?”

“I wasn't invited, if that is what you mean, but after sending several telegrams and making more than a few unanswered telephone calls, my appearance here isn't quite the surprise you think it is. No matter what Matthew says, I never intended to remain in exile,” he said bitingly.

Peeta sighed heavily. “Why did you come back, Luke?”

“Shouldn't that much be obvious? I came to meet my new sister.” His eyes landed on me for the first time, and I could tell by his bland expression that he wasn't impressed. “Won't you be so kind as to introduce us?”

“Luke, this is my wife, Katniss. Katniss, this is the good for nothing son of a bitch who should have stayed in New York,” my husband seethed.

Unperturbed, my other brother-in-law let out a bark of laughter. “A pleasure to meet you, my dear,” he said with an exaggerated mocking bow. “And allow me to finish the introductions; this is my associate, Mr. Gloss.”

The darker haired man who had remained silent so far only gave the slightest inclination of his head to acknowledge me.

“Wonderful,” a voice cut in from behind us, “Now that you have met Katniss, you can both leave.”

I hadn't noticed Matthew and Effie's approach, but that wasn't too surprising. I doubt anyone in the room noticed much aside from the drama that was threatening to enfold in the foyer that night. Scandal, Effie had warned me, was society's true love. Nothing relieved boredom like a good bit of gossip, and I knew that we were going to serve up quite the feast before dinner was even served.

“Do you think I'll jump just because you tell me to?” Luke sneered.

Matthew's nostrils flared. “I think you'll leave before I rip your...”

“Boys, please!” Effie begged, cutting what would have been quite a threat in half. She stepped between the feuding brothers and managed a brittle smile. “I'm sure we can save the more private details of your reunion until after the meal has been served.”

“So sorry to disappoint, Auntie, but Gloss and I have another engagement to make tonight. I simply wanted to stop by to give my regards,” my newest brother explained.

And just like that, they were gone as quickly as they had come. A flurry of whispers surrounded them as they left to the point where I could barely hear their goodbyes. I think I was still a bit off balance from the whole thing as Effie began herding the guests toward the dining room. From the corner of my eye, I watched Luke and Gloss disappearing through the door and wondered if I would ever really know what had caused such hard feelings between them all.

If I had thought that the evening was bound to get better after Luke's departure, I was soon disappointed. Dinner was stuffier and less interesting than Reverend Undersee's worst sermon. Talk went back and forth between the men about all aspects of business and industry while the women twittered on about fashion. I tried to fake interest as a few of the younger women tried to draw me into their ranks. Thankfully, I had a rescuer.

“Exactly when are you going to make good on your promise?” Miss Mason asked suddenly from a few seats to my left.

I blinked and tried not to frown too much—something Effie chided me about constantly. “My promise?”

“To volunteer. Surely you haven’t forgotten,” she scoffed haughtily over her wine glass.

“Is Monday soon enough?” I asked, pushing aside the urge to point out that I hadn't actually promised anything.

Smiling slyly like a cat playing with a mouse, she cocked her head to the side. “Monday should be fine.”

As if merely speaking on friendly terms with Miss Mason had tainted me, most of the other women on our end of the table seemed to lose interest in me. Matthew had told me that she had a reputation for being wild, but I hadn't given any thought to what kinds of repercussions would come of being friends with her. I didn't like being “told” what to do. It brought out a rebellious side to my nature. Maybe that was why when coffee and wine were served on the terrace after the meal, I immediately found Miss Mason smoking along the railing.

“Come to ask me about what happened between Matthew, Luke and I?” she asked with an arched brow.

I shook my head. “I didn't think you'd want to talk about it.”

“My stunning fall from grace doesn't bother me,” she assured me with a throaty, smoke laced laugh. “I suspect that it bothers other people more than it ever did me. It's more fun to play the villainous vixen than it ever was to be the debutante. You'll have to learn how to play the game, too, I think.”

“So if it doesn't bother you, what _did_ happen five years ago?”

“Oh, I snuck off with Luke in the middle of Matthew’s and my engagement party for a quick tryst in the library. When we were caught, Luke refused to make an _honest_ woman of me,” she told me as if it were no more than the weather she was commenting on.

“And Matthew broke off the engagement,” I finished, feeling an urge to hog tie both of my brother-in-laws.

Miss Mason looked away. “No, Matthew is far too honorable for that. He made a grand show of telling all and sundry that he would stand by me in my scandal—that he could forgive the mistake of an innocent young girl led astray by his dastardly brother. I was the one who broke off the engagement. I have no desire to be forgiven or to have my husband tolerate me.”

“If you dislike the Mellarks so much, why did you come here tonight?” I asked. I was becoming nosy, but I didn't care. There was a burning curiosity in me that night. I actually liked what I had seen of Miss Mason so far, and I knew that she had played a very pivotal role in shaping the brothers' relationship.

“Still haven't figured it all out, have you?” she asked as the snuffed out the last little bit of her cigarette. “The more intriguing question would be to ask why I was invited.”

The rest of the night was a blur. Effie found me standing there with Miss Mason that night and all but dragged me back into the fold of respectable but boring people. Conversations that evening were stilted and not worth remembering. I had erased any doubts that I was going to be a hellion in the eyes of society, and I couldn't bring myself to follow along with the chit-chat surrounding me. Finally, the clock struck late enough for the guests to filter out on their way. I was bone tired and had to force my eyes to stay open during the short car ride home. Peeta and Matthew were both suspiciously quiet, but I didn't have the energy to press either of them.

Peeta and I slept in later than usual the next day. I opened my eyes and blinked against the bright sun streaming in through the windows. I had survived my first bout with society and lived to see the light of the next day. In fact, there weren't even any angry notes from Effie presented to me at the breakfast table. It didn't sound like all that impressive of a feat, but I was willing to take what small victories I could.

I decided to take a walk in the afternoon around my favorite route in Allegheny Commons. When I mentioned to Peeta about having Thresh drive me, he asked to join me. I had taken a few trips to the sprawling park since we'd arrived in the city, but when I had asked him to come along before, he had always made one excuse or another. Having him along was a pleasant surprise, but as I pushed his chair along the path, I couldn't help but wonder what had prompted him to join me.

“Did you have a nice time last night?” he asked, clearing his throat uncomfortably.

I let out a snort. “I'd rather stroll through this park naked than do it again, if that tells you anything.”

“As much as I love picturing you naked, I don't really like the idea of sharing that sight,” Peeta replied with a chuckle. “I knew it was going to be something you lived for the way Aunt Effie does, but I had hoped you wouldn't hate it so much. That probably won't be the last dinner we have to sit through while we're here.”

“I suppose I can survive if I have to.”

My arms were tiring quickly from pushing, and I was relieved to see a park bench nearby with a nice view of the pond. I parked Peeta's chair beside it and took a seat. For the time being, we were both content to enjoy the nice weather. The sweltering heat had simmered down enough to make it bearable outside and the cooling wind that ran along the water made it actually enjoyable. Sunlight danced off of the water, making me wish that we were sitting beside our lake, but even I had to admit that the park had its upsides.

“It seems like you and Johanna get along pretty well,” he commented, breaking the peaceful silence.

“Is that so wrong?” I asked. My hackles were raising even at the hint of censure I thought I heard in his voice.

Peeta shook his head and let out a heavy sigh. “I like Jo. Despite everything that happened and everything people say about her, she never fails to prove that she is a true friend to me. She and Ben were two of the only people to not treat me any differently last night. Even if I hadn't liked them before, that would have been enough to change my mind.”

It wasn't too hard to divine what exactly it was that Peeta was struggling with concerning Johanna. “But it's hard to get past what happened with her and your brothers.”

“Someone told you?”

“She summed it up pretty bluntly,” I confirmed.

“She does have a way of doing that,” he agreed, cracking a smile that faded as quickly as it came. “I don't suppose she told you any of the important things, though. Katniss, I don't think you realize how perfect things were that summer before it all fell apart. Luke had come to spend a few weeks at home after finishing law school, and it was like he was a changed man. He'd always been so unpredictable and brooding that—blood aside—I couldn't say I knew anything about him at all. For the first time, he was happy and always joking with Matthew and I. It felt like we actually had another brother besides the two of us. Things were almost too good to be true. And then Matthew asked Johanna to marry him after almost a year of courtship. Luke seemed to be genuinely happy about the engagement... just like the rest of us. I wasn't expecting things to collapse the way they did. He and Jo were caught by Matthew, who had been taking some friends to have a cigar in the library. Luke's jacket was off and his suspenders were dangling. There wasn't any real doubt about what had happened, but when Matthew demanded an explanation, neither of them would answer. He asked what Luke's intentions were toward Jo, but there wasn't so much as a prayer for Luke doing the right thing. And Matthew cared too much for Johanna to just let her suffer the consequences, so he made sure that everyone knew he intended to stand by her. I'll never understand why she wouldn't let him.”

Johanna's words about not wanting to be _forgiven_ or _tolerated_ echoed in my head. “I understand.”

Peeta let out a rough chuckle. “Then maybe you can explain it to me.”

“Maybe someday,” I muttered, turning my attention back to the pond. I didn't think I could really explain it to Peeta. His world was so black and white. It was easier for a man to see the honorable action as the right one. I don't think he would ever understand that it was more important for Johanna to live by her own judgment than it was to be society's darling. I understood though, and maybe that would be enough to form an actual friendship.


	26. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, a huge thanks to Chelzie and Modernlifeofash who have worked really hard to keep me going.

 Chapter 25

Johanna came to pick me up before I was even through with my first cup of coffee on Monday morning. I guess that one look at the bags beneath my eyes was all it took for her to sit down at the other end of the table and wait on me to finish without much complaint. Her sole grumble seemed halfhearted at best when Mrs. Paylor poured her a cup as well.

“Where are Matthew and Peeta?” she asked, glancing to the empty seats beside us.

I swallowed a mouthful of toast as quickly as I could chew it. “Peeta and his teacher are already working in the library, and Matthew was gone before the rest of us were up. Even Mrs. Paylor didn't see him.”

“You mean that he never came home last night,” Johanna scoffed. “I've never known him to be an early riser, and I don't doubt for an instant that he is still in bed—even if that bed isn't his own.”

“Who else's bed would he be in?” I asked. I wasn't innocent about what she meant, but just couldn't picture Matthew doing something like that. He seemed too staunch to be having an affair.

She shrugged, failing to look as nonchalant as she'd hoped. “There is talk that he visits a widow on the other side of town quite frequently. He pays for the apartment and the bills, and she keeps her legs wide open like any good mistress should.”

Snorting, I set aside my now-cold cup of coffee. “It's more likely he fell asleep at his office.”

“If you say so,” Johanna sighed. “Now, let's get going. I told Nurse Lyme I would have you at the clinic by nine.”

It didn't look strange at all to me when she slid behind the steering wheel even though I had never seen a woman drive a car before. I should have known that Johanna wouldn't have a driver. It didn't fit with a single thing I knew about her, that she would be one to wait for a car to be driven round for her. She wore her independence like a suit of armor. I envied that.

We arrived at the clinic just before nine, and Johanna motioned for me to follow her inside the shabby looking little building past a group of haggard looking souls waiting in line. Some of them were obviously injured, like the old man clutching at bloodied rags around his hand, while others were sick and hunched over with wracking coughs. The sight of these people clawed at my heart in a way nothing had in quite a while. Even back home where a lot of folks had next to nothing, I hadn't seen so much suffering.

“Don't dawdle,” Johanna admonished me, her eyes never so much as landing on the line for a moment. I'm sure she had seen it before.

We hadn't gone very far inside of the building when an imposing figure dressed in a nurse's uniform appeared. She was hard faced with blonde hair tucked up beneath an impeccably starched cap. For the briefest second her gaze traveled over me, but I couldn't tell by her eyes what she thought.

“Katniss, this is Nurse Lyme. She coordinates the clinic,” Johanna explained.

“So you're Mrs. Mellark?” she asked flatly.

I nodded. “Johanna said you needed nurses.”

“And are you a nurse?” A blonde brow shot up at me mockingly.

“I assisted Dr. Abernathy back home in...”

She let out an irritated groan and raised a hand. “That is beside the point. Are you or are you not a trained and educated nurse?”

“I didn't get any schooling for it, if that is what you're asking, but I worked for Dr. Abernathy for over two years,” I argued.

“That still doesn't give you the skills that an educated and fully trained nurse would have,” she replied icily.

 I pulled myself up to my full height and looked her directly in the eye. I'd had too many people tell me that I was lacking something these days, and too many people trying to stare me down like I was some kind of insect. I wasn't going to take it anymore. “Educated or not, I am still a pair of able hands to bandage wounds and clean up piss and vomit. Not only am I trained enough to do it, but I'm willing. How many others do you have lined up right now?” I demanded. “I see more patients than volunteers out there.”

I must have said something right that day, because from then on I was simply accepted into the circle of volunteers at the clinic like it had been my place all along. Nurse Lyme introduced me to the few other regular volunteers and before I knew it, I was wrapping bandages and assisting in cleaning wounds.

As days passed, I found myself feeling energized in a way that I hadn't felt since coming to the city. Though I wasn't educated for the job, nor was I overtly compassionate, somehow nursing came naturally to me. I didn't become frantic as the pressure mounted like many of the other volunteers did. The line of people waiting out in the lobby didn't weigh on me as much as the patient in front of me. I was able to hone in and do a job that really let me help in a way that I had never been able to before. For the first time in my life, I felt like maybe I was finally finding worth in the community around me. The people I cared for and the nurses and doctors I worked with didn't see me as “Katniss Everdeen, the poor little orphan girl” or “Mrs. Mellark, the rich woman.” I was making my own way. The feeling was addictive.

My initial arrangement was to help out two days a week at the clinic while Peeta was working with Finnick. I reasoned that I really wouldn't be missed. Peeta didn't seem to need me, and there was no reason for me to sit around and do next to nothing, was there? Somehow, two days became three in the blink of an eye, and aside from Matthew's haughty remarks about the family not being in dire enough straights for me to work my fingers to the bone, no one seemed to care. Peeta was becoming more and more distracted while I was at the clinic, and I barely noticed. He stopped smiling like he used to when I walked into the room, and he didn't make his usual ridiculously sweet remarks when we were alone. The truth was that we hardly spoke. In the evenings, we usually retired to the library where I rolled bandages for the war effort while he practiced reading or typing. It was almost like—aside from sharing a bed—we had never been married at all. Just under a month after we'd been married, the fragile state of things between us began to show its cracks.

The sky had opened up that day and dumped out buckets of rain that felt more like waterfalls than drops. With many of our patients either not able or not willing to brave the storm, the clinic had been slow enough that day that Nurse Lyme shooed most of us volunteers off home. I had been expecting to find Mrs. Paylor at the door and Peeta in the library with Finnick when I got home, but as I opened the door, no one greeted me in the darkened hall.

“Hello?” I called.

“Katniss!” I heard Peeta's voice from down the hall—just as I had expected to—but I wasn't expecting to hear the desperation in his voice.

I raced down the hall and threw open the library door to find Peeta sprawled on the floor with a deep gash on his forehead. The feet of his prosthetic legs were in a tangle and his canes were flung out of his grasp. Dropping down to my knees beside him, I immediately began to inspect the damage. “My God!” I gasped as I inspected his wound.

“I fell,” he murmured, turning away from my ministrations. “Can you help me back to my chair?”

“All right,” I agreed without thinking. Looking around the room quickly, I suddenly realized that his chair was nowhere to be found. “Where is it?”

“The bedroom.”

He didn't offer any explanations as to what he was thinking leaving the chair that far behind, and I didn't ask. It was safer that we not talk as I retrieved it for him and helped him back into it. In fact, we didn't speak a single word the whole time I cleaned his cut, either. I think we both knew that whatever was coming was not good.

“You're lucky. I don't think you need stitches,” I said finally as I set aside the unused gauze. 

“Wonderful,” he replied flatly.

I crossed my arms over my chest and prepared for battle.

“And just what the hell did you think you were doing anyway?” I demanded.

Peeta rolled his eyes. “I was wondering how long it was going to take you. You did better than I thought you would.”

“Don't change the subject!”

“Wouldn't dream of it,” he snapped. “Why would I want to avoid telling my wife that I tripped like a toddler when I was on my way to go take a piss?”

“But why weren't you using your chair and why were you alone anyway?” I demanded, unrelenting. Somewhere in my mind, I was aware that this whole scenario was hurting him like hell, but I couldn't find that part of myself at the moment. I was too angry. All that mattered was that I wanted answers.

“Mrs. Paylor took the day off, and Finnick is visiting a friend. I don't need to be watched like an infant. I'm a grown man, and if I want to try to walk like one, I damned well will,” his voice was soft, but there was an iciness to his tone that was downright dangerous.

“But Haymitch said...”

“I fucking well know what Haymitch said. And the doctor confirmed his theory last week at the hospital, if you must know, but I don't care. I need to walk! Anyone who says otherwise can go straight to Hell.” He slammed his fist down on the armrest of his chair so hard that I'm surprised it didn't crack.

“Does that include me? Is that why you didn't tell me that you even saw the doctor?” I asked, feeling the prick of unwanted tears behind my eyes.

“This has nothing to do with you,” he told me stubbornly.

I tried shake off the pain that his words caused, but I couldn't quite manage it. “Oh, I think you've made that abundantly clear.”

“Katniss, you just don't understand,” he said softly. “I just want... I don't even know how to explain it to you. I can't put into words everything that's been happening lately, and I didn't want to upset you when you finally seemed happy.”

“Try,” I pleaded, letting the anger seep away.

“I need to be more than just a cripple.”

“You're not just...”

“Don't try and tell me I'm not. I _am_ a cripple. I will be for the rest of my life. Don't think you can erase that,” he told me, biting his lip.

 _Cripple._ The word was so ugly, and didn't sum up a one-hundredth of who Peeta was. To hear him call himself that after all he'd managed to accomplish lately cut deeper than I could bear. How could he not see that? _“_ I hate that word,” I said weakly.

“Get used to it. I'm sure we'll both be hearing it a fair bit.” Peeta heaved a sigh and pushed at his wheels uneasily. “That's why I have to be more. I have to prove that I can still be more than just the parts I left behind in France.”

“But you already are more!” I insisted.

He shook his head. “I know you believe that, and I want to believe it, but I can't think of myself that way just yet. There is so much I can barely do for myself or can't do at all. I need to push farther. You're the one that got me started towards being more independent. Can't you see that I just can't give up now?”

“I can help you, Peeta. You don't have to do this all alone. I would have gone with you to see the doctor. I can cut back at the clinic and help you in your lessons. I'm here to help you,” I said, reaching out for his fingers.

He squeezed my hand without smiling. “You're my wife now, Katniss, not my nurse. Maybe I'll be able to accept your help again. Maybe someday, I'll even be able to accept myself the way I am now. Right now, though, I hate myself for how much I can't do.”

“What do you want me to do?” I tried to swallow the lump that had been steadily forming in my throat.

“I don't know.” The sheer desolation in his tone was unlike anything I had heard from him even in the first days we had known each other. “The worst part is that I truly do realize how much I have going right in my life. I know that I should feel better. Things are going well. I have a wife. I'm beginning to become independent again. Still, there's this part of me that can't stop hating myself for every breath I take. It's like my body is the one enemy I can't conquer. In a way, I'm more depressed now than I ever was before.”

Unable to think of a single thing to say, I grabbed his hand and held it tight. I wished that I had known he felt like he did. I wished we had never left Mellark House. I wished a million things at that moment, but couldn't put them into words. I knew that there wasn't a damned thing I could say to change the way Peeta felt. We sat in silence, listening to the rain for what felt like forever before Peeta spoke.

“I'm sorry,” he said quietly.

“For what?”

 Peeta shrugged. “For a lot of things. But right now, mostly for snapping at you and for not telling you about the doctor.”

“I understand why you're so angry. There are times when I still get angry for you. I just don't want you to forget that I'm here for you. And that I love you. I have faith in you, Peeta—maybe even than you have in yourself.” I kissed his fingers, still entwined with mine.

“Sometimes I ask myself if I'm dreaming. It's hard to believe that anyone like you can even be real,” he said with a sad smile. He wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me tight to him, and buried his face against me.

“I guess I'm real after all,” I murmured as I threaded my hands through his curls.

He chuckled into my ribs. “Either that or I'm mad as a hatter.”

“Does that make me Alice?” I laughed as an evil thought crossed my mind. “Your mother would make a wonderful Red Queen.”

It took some doing, but by the time the skies cleared in the evening, Peeta almost seemed himself again. We curled up on the couch with a copy of _Through the Looking Glass,_ and I was reluctant to leave his side. It scared me that I might not be able to see all of the cracks beneath his surface. I doubted that I would ever really know what the war had cost him, and I knew that I could never heal all of his wounds. The helplessness ate at me as I sat there with him that night, and I prayed that I could take a page from his book and force a smile to my voice.

I sent a note to Johanna and Nurse Lyme in the morning that I wouldn't be coming to the clinic that day. At that moment, I felt less guilty about letting strangers down than I would have felt leaving Peeta. I'd simply made up my mind that I wouldn't leave him that day. I didn't even ask if it was all right for me to sit in on Peeta's lesson that day; I simply took a seat in one of the arm chairs near the fireplace.

“Katniss, how wonderful of you to join us,” Finnick said with a conspiratorial grin after I greeted him. “It just so happens we need a set of working eyes today. So lovely of you to volunteer!”

“And just what I am I volunteering for?” I asked suspiciously.

His grin widened. “Why, you're about to make yourself unneeded in the morning.”

“Finnick, exactly what are you trying to force my wife into?” Peeta demanded, obviously feeling less obliging than I was at the moment.

“Nothing shocking or scandalous, I assure you,” he answered with a chuckle. “Just going to arrange your wardrobe a bit. It's easier to not look like you've been dressed by a blind man when your closet is in order.”

We spent most of the day sorting through the clothes in Peeta's closet. It was my job to describe the color of each garment as Peeta got reacquainted with each one while using his sense of touch. The whole idea of the “lesson” seemed basic enough. I had just assumed that I would be the one to keep the closet in order or the servants would. But then Finnick produced a selection of buttons in various shapes and sizes along with a thread and needle.

“I sew a button into the seams of some of my clothing to serve as a marker of which are which,” he said, undoing his shirt sleeve to illustrate. He led Peeta's hand to it and continued, “Do you feel the anchor on this one? That tells me that this shirt is a dark blue. I have a smaller one with rounder edges on my lighter blue one. It's a system that I've worked out with the help of my tailor, and I'm sure you'll come up with one of your own. For now, though, let's just use these ones I've brought from the school.”

“I hate to put a damper on your plan,” I murmured with a sigh, “But I'll probably have better luck getting blood on the clothes than I will buttons.”

Finnick let out a hearty chuckle. “You're not here to sew. Peeta's going to do the sewing.”

By the end of the afternoon, my ribs hurt from laughing. We had sorted his closet and started sewing the buttons on most of his shirts, but it seemed like so much more. It felt good to be a part of Peeta's life again, even in such a small way. There was a closeness building between us once more that I hadn't felt since before Delly and Effie had come to Mellark House. I wondered if maybe there was hope on the horizon, and if the smiles Peeta gave me that day were any sign, I could actually believe there was.


	27. Chapter 26

Chapter 26

I had hoped that the dinner at Effie's would be our only large social outing while we were in Pittsburgh, but I was quickly proven wrong. I found myself wearing a golden gown to the Van Haute's party not a full week after I started helping with Peeta's rehabilitation. I wanted to skip the party, but Peeta told me that the Van Hautes were one of the Mellarks' best business partners. He assured me that things would be different than the last time, and thankfully, he was right. This time, we were both more confident about facing society. Between Johanna and Effie’s coaching, I felt like I had a stronger footing. Peeta's confidence was mostly due to his time with Finnick, learning how to handle himself better with his limited sight. The rest came from the pair of artificial legs beneath him. It was amazing the difference that standing seemed to make in how people treated him. Unlike his last outing, men shook his hand heartily while meeting his gaze and the smiles Peeta gave them in return were indeed genuine.

By the time we were through the receiving line and had said hello to the rest of the guests, the strain Peeta was putting on himself by standing for so long had begun to creep across his features. I led him to a chair without asking. It was a sign of just how far Peeta had come that he didn't fight me. We both knew that he would need his strength for the rest of the evening to come.

“And here is the lovely pair that I was hoping to see tonight,” a masculine voice drawled from behind me. Even without looking, I knew it was Luke.

Peeta's jaw tightened. “I thought you would have slunk away home by now.”

“I am home,” his brother countered as he took a seat on the settee uninvited. Gloss appeared beside him, reminding me of a loyal guard dog.

“Was there something you wanted?” I asked, placing a hand on my husband's shoulder.

“I paid a visit to Johanna Mason earlier this afternoon. She was less than welcoming at first, but I do believe that I have started to make amends to her. Does that win me any favor?” Luke asked, ignoring my question.

“A bit late, don't you think?” Peeta scoffed. “I'm surprised you're still in one piece after she was done with you. I would have made bets that I’d have been the more intact brother.”

Regret crossed the elder brother's features. “I'd earned it if she had. Is it so hard to believe that I want to make things right?”

“If there's one thing I've learned recently, it's that just because you want to do something doesn't mean you're going to be able to do it. This isn't the time or the place to talk about these things,” Peeta said thoughtfully.

“All right then,” Luke agreed. “But we will talk about it someday.”

“Do you think Johanna really forgave him?” I wondered aloud as I watched Luke walk away to greet friends across the room.

Peeta shrugged. “With her, who knows?”

As the evening went on, I couldn't help but let my gaze drift to my brother-in-law and his stoic friend. They moved through the room easily enough without actually being visibly snubbed by anyone. Luke was certainly charming. It was a trait I had come to expect from the Mellark family, but it wasn't lost on me that the middle brother had a different type of charisma than Peeta and Matthew. There wasn't an ounce of sincerity to him. Somehow, though, no one seemed to notice. During the dessert course, I noticed that I was being watched as much as I was watching. Every so often, those icy blue eyes would make their way to where Peeta and I sat. I met his gaze firmly, and he raised his glass to me in mock salute. Raising a brow at the gesture, I excused myself to the retiring room just to escape.

Pretending to powder my nose with the ridiculous little compact Effie had insisted I buy, I stood at the mirror beside another young wife that I had met at the last party. She side-eyed me warily as a maid re-pinned her curls. I couldn't remember her name at the moment, and she didn't seem all that inclined to start up a conversation with me. It would be a lie to say that her snub didn't sting. For as much as I didn't care what most of these people thought of me, I wasn't entirely immune to their barbs as I liked to think I was. I shoved the compact into the silly purse hanging from my wrist and made my way back to the party.

On my way out the door, I heard my name spoken by some man a little farther around the corner. Curious, I stopped in my tracks for a moment to listen.

“I must say, I doubt ol' Peter is going to get his money's worth out of that girl,” one man scoffed. “There's not much to her.”

“I think there's just enough of her,” the next sniggered. “Besides, it's not like he can afford to be too picky. I wonder how much it will cost to have a go at her once Mellark loses his shine. I might be interested.”

My blood boiled and I was just about to step out of the shadows when a more familiar voice entered the conversation.

“Tsk, tsk, Seneca. I would have thought you'd have better things to spend your wife's money on than your own infidelity,” Luke intervened smoothly. “I will warn you only once to keep my brother's marriage off of your list of topics to discuss in public, or else I will make sure that everyone knows some more... shall we say _intimate_ details of your own.”

“Now see here, Luke...” the other man began limply.

“No, _you_ see here. I am not the kind-hearted soul that my brothers are. I take matters into my own hands, and I won't hesitate to answer any slight with complete social ruin,” my brother-in-law promised. “Now, I think you owe my dear sister an apology. Katniss, darling, you can come out now.”

I stepped from the shadows to face the men with my head held high. Despite the sweat building in my palms, I was determined to wear the same haughty mask as Luke. Slowly, I let my gaze travel the pair. The first was a stout, blond haired man in his forties who looked truly embarrassed by what had unfolded. His friend was the opposite: tall and dark with a beard and an air of defiance. I assumed that the second was the one Luke had called Seneca.

“My apologies,” he murmured without an ounce of sincerity.

I met his stare dead on. “I don't accept.”

Beside me, Luke broke out into a deep, rumbling laugh. “There you have it, Seneca! It seems my new sister is a good judge of character.” He offered me his arm. “Shall we, Katniss?”

“Thank you,” I said softly as Luke led me to a private corner.

“Don't thank me,” he told me flatly. “You've got a lot to learn.”

I let out an unladylike snort. “What, so I don't embarrass the Mellark family name?”

“No, you could run naked through the streets and the Mellarks will stand by you—at least on the surface, that is. What you need to learn is not to let the jackals crawl under your skin. Seneca Crane and his cronies might risk losing their brains every time they take a shit, but they have a knack for tearing down anyone they see as a threat,” he explained.

“How am I a threat?” I asked incredulously.

“An intelligent woman with an even an ounce of independence is always dangerous.” Luke's lips curved into a wicked smile. “Haven't you learned anything from Johanna?”

“I learned that I probably shouldn't be alone with you.”

Quirking a brow, his eyes sparkled with amusement. “I promise that you’ll never have anything to fear from me.”

We returned to the table together, and I was half expecting there to be whispers as we approached. No one seemed to notice though, as Luke pulled out my chair for me. I was amazed by the realization that none of them saw my association with him as shocking the way they had with Johanna. Of course, I had always known that women were held to a much higher standard than men were, but I had never realized just how broad the gap truly was. Luke had been right about independent women being a threat to this world, because the minute we stopped holding ourselves to these standards, the harder we would be to control.

“Is everything all right?” Peeta whispered.

“Fine,” I answered, still in a daze.

The rest of the party passed without any other incidents. I stayed by Peeta's side and only spoke when spoken to. I watched the other women at the party as they hovered by their husbands, dressed in their finery with diamonds and jewels on their throats. For the first time in my life, I realized that perhaps being poor wasn't the worst fate in the world. It was one thing to own very little, but quite another to be owned. Right then and there, I promised myself that I while I still drew breath, I would never allow my daughters or granddaughters to ever suffer that fate.

We skipped church the next morning. Matthew disappeared into his garden after breakfast while Peeta and I settled into the study with the newspaper. Not long after we arrived in Pittsburgh I'd started reading the paper to him nearly every day, and surprisingly, we'd both come to enjoy it. At home, I'd been mostly removed from what happened in the rest of the world, but now I was learning about everything from politics and economics to the arts. Peeta and I talked about things happening in places I had never even heard of before then. It was liberating.

Just as we finished reading about the Pirates last game against the Dodgers, Mrs. Paylor came into the room with an even more pinched expression than usual. “Mr. Lucas Mellark, Ms. Mason, and Mr. Gloss have come to visit, Sir,” she said icily. “Will you be receiving callers?”

“Of course they will,” Johanna answered before Peeta or I could open our mouths to speak. She pushed right by Mrs. Paylor, giving the housekeeper a withering glare for good measure. Luke and Mr. Gloss trailed in her wake, the former looking quite amused by her boldness and the latter looking equally embarrassed by it.

“What a pleasant surprise,” I quipped blandly as Johanna seated herself in one of the armchairs across from us.

“In my defense,” Luke drawled, “I was in favor of calling ahead. Johanna seemed to think that you might not see me if we did.”

Peeta cleared his throat. “That would depend on who answered the telephone.”

“And if it was you?” his brother asked.

“I'm not sure,” Peeta replied truthfully. “Mrs. Paylor is, no doubt, on her way to get Matthew as we speak. Why are you here? Did you all come together to pick a fight?''

Johanna's expression softened. “Peeta, you need to understand that this isn't going to be an easy conversation for any of us to have. Gloss and I came because we're Luke's friends every bit as much as I am yours.”

Matthew arrived in the study, still wearing his trousers with dirt at the knees and his sleeves rolled up. He eyed the gathering without seeming too surprised. I couldn't help but notice how his gaze lingered on Johanna. I expected him to be angry, but he looked more defeated than anything.

“Lovely to see you, Jo,” he said quietly before turning to the others with a nod. “Gentlemen.”

“Is that all you're going to say?” Luke demanded, incredulously. “No censure? No threats?”

Matthew shrugged. “I assume you've come to make an announcement. And although I wish it had come sooner, I won't fault you for doing the right thing now.”

“Of all the boneheaded male assumptions to make!” Johanna blurted out. “You haven't heard what Luke or I came here to say and you're already planning our lives out. I wouldn't marry a Mellark man if my life depended on it.”

“Well then, tell us what you have to tell us,” he snapped back irritably, raking a hand through his hair.

“Do you remember the night you found Jo and I in the library together?” Luke asked grimly.

His jaw tightened, but Matthew managed to give a curt nod. “It's not exactly something I'm likely to forget. That was one of the worst nights of my life.”

Luke suddenly stood up and began to pace before the fireplace. Whatever was on his mind, he couldn't quite keep the cool facade that he usually did. “I wasn't alone with Johanna before you came in that night,” he finally muttered. “She was completely innocent, and I did nothing to protect my friend from your scorn.”

“I don't understand,” Peeta cut in. “I was there that night, too. You and Johanna were alone in the library when we all arrived. And if you weren't alone, why were you only half dressed?”

“I was with him,” Gloss clarified, giving Luke an unmistakable look. “Johanna came to warn us that all of you were coming. In the second it took for you to open the door, I was able to duck behind the corner. You were all so focused on them that you didn't see me sneak back in behind your ranks.”

Swallowing hard, Luke faced his brothers. “Gloss and I have been lovers for almost seven years now. I never touched Johanna that way—I've never touched _any_ woman that way. If my family is going to hate me, at the very least hate me for what I have done instead of what I haven't.”

“I don't hate you,” Peeta said quietly, reaching out toward where Luke stood. He grasped his brother’s fingers tightly. “I've been angry, but I never hated you. I never could. I only wish you would have told us sooner. Though I suppose, to a degree, that I already knew.”

“You already knew?” his brother echoed with a dumbfounded expression.

“I was twelve or so when I figured out that there was something different about you,” Peeta said thoughtfully. “The summer that father hired Cinna, the art instructor, the two of you seemed to vanish into thin air all the time. Then one day, I climbed up in the old willow to get a different view of the lake.”

Luke buried his face in his hand, shaking his head with laughter. “Oh, you got a view all right, I assume. How come you never say anything about it?”

“I might have asked someone about it,” Peeta flushed. “Cinna’s instruction on the topic of homosexual love was certainly something that boarding school left out when they taught us.”

“Peeta, when I thought you might die...” Luke's voice trailed off, quaking with emotion. “I thought you were going to die hating me. I prayed to God that I might have a second chance.”

“Now we all do,” my husband said with a smile.

Seemingly unmoved by the display before her, Johanna turned to the mantle that Matthew was currently bracing himself against, staring into the empty hearth. “Well?” she prompted impatiently. “Don't you have anything to say about this?”

“How could you?” His words were low, but laced with an anguished rage. When Matthew looked up at Luke and Johanna, his eyes were wide with an almost manic quality. “You let me think that the woman I loved—still love more than life and my own flesh and blood—betrayed me. I would have done anything for either of you, and you let me suffer like that?”

Johanna moved to comfort him, but he pushed her away. Though her eyes were dry, I could see the rawness of what she must have been feeling. “I wanted to tell you. I wanted Luke to tell you! But...”

“But what?” he growled. “You didn't want to marry me anyhow? You could have said yes that night and we would have married, the scandal and my family be damned!”

“This isn't the time to talk about it,” she ground out through clenched teeth as she glanced over to where we all still sat.

Letting out a snort of disgust, Matthew tossed his hands up in the air. “I suppose if you didn't want to talk about any of this for the last five years, there certainly isn't any rush now. If you'll all excuse me...”

No one moved as he left the room. I think we all knew that following him would only prolong his rage. He was going to have to sort out his feelings on his own. Though I wouldn't have said it then, I understood why Matthew needed to leave that day. He wasn't wrong to be angry. He’d been carrying the hurt that night had caused him for so long. Maybe if Johanna or Luke had told him sooner, he would have simply forgiven them and moved along, but far too much time had passed for him to simply let bygones be bygones.

Johanna slumped back into her chair bonelessly, and Luke put a hand on her shoulder. He smiled wryly. “Well, at least he didn't demand to meet at the park at dawn with pistols or some other equally melodramatic rubbish.”

“He'll calm down eventually,” Peeta assured him. “You know how he can be.”

I could tell by the frown on Jo's face that there were a million things she wanted to say just then, but wouldn't. She was every bit as stubborn as Matthew—perhaps even more so—though I had little room to talk. Maybe it was because we were so alike that I could see her struggling to keep all of her pain and disappointment hidden.

“It’s a beautiful day and I’m tired of being indoors,” I said, standing suddenly and smoothing my skirts. “Let’s go for a walk, Jo.”

We’d gone nearly three blocks before she said so much as a word. “Love is weird,” she muttered softly.

“It is,” I agreed. “But things aren’t over between you and Matthew unless you want them to be. Even I can see how much he loves you, and I’m not exactly a romantic.”

“He was right, though. I didn't want to get married back then. I knew that if I'd told him sooner rather than later, all would have been forgiven and we'd have gotten married. Marriage is one of the few things that actually scares me. If I thought for a second we could have love without marriage and both be happy, I'd be jumping at the chance, but he wants more,” she explained. “Katniss, I know you're trying to help, but this is just one of those things that can't be fixed. I've been lying in the bed I made for a while now.”

Though I didn't offer any more advice, part of me knew that this wasn't the end of it. Johanna may be ready to give up, but I knew that even as angry as he was, Matthew wasn't. He was like Peeta in that regard. I only hoped that Johanna would realize what she had right in front of her before it was too late.


End file.
